The Days After The Day
by InsaneMelon
Summary: Tony is now a member of the NCIS family but not all is fun and games when he and Gibbs disagree over a case. And then there is that man in the shadows, watching them and planning his revenge... AU, third story in "The Day" universe - NOW COMPLETE -
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: NCIS doesn't belong to me in any form! Just to be on the safe side: I don't own Starbucks either. I don't even drink coffee, so yeah...

**Genre**: **AU**, friendship, family, angst, hurt-comfort, humor... well, all the good stuff

**Pairing**(s): Gibbs/Tony FATHER/SON!, Tony/Abby BROTHER/SISTER and a smidgen of Ducky/Everyone friendship/grandfather/mentor

**Rating**: T for violence and language later on and sensitive mention of child abuse

**A/N:** Here it finally is, the first chapter of the third part in the "The Day" universe. It picks up right where TDIB left us and while it has elements of Canon, this story is **AU**! I'm just warning you now because I would like not to get reviews that go like: "But it didn't happen like that in the show!". Just trust me when I say that I've seen the show as well and know all the points were my story veers into AU-territory.

In germany it's friday, and from now on **friday will be posting-day**, YAY! It'll be weekly at first since I have a few chapters written already but in the future I may have to cut back to a chapter every two weeks, in case the writers block hits or my beta is indisposed, but never more than that, I promise.

**Talking about betas:** The wonderful, amazing **AZGirl** is beta'ing this story for you and doing an awesome job too, so show her your appreciation and go read her stories! Ahhhh, after you read this one, of course... :)

I'll warn you now that this story will at first appear very much like one of the many others that are out there and at first you might think how boring this is and how you've read something like this a thousand times already, but I implore you to keep reading even if such thoughts cross your mind. This is going to turn into a journey with twists and turns and surprises and I would love you to accompany me on this trip till the end. Thank you.

I know present you...

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 01

The day was exceptionally hot, even for mid-July, and Anthony DiNozzo was immensely grateful for the AC that provided him with cool, refreshing air. It couldn't quite counteract the stuffy air and heat that dominated the inside of the car, but it was better than nothing. He'd really hoped to escape the heat wave that had Baltimore in its clutches but apparently DC wasn't faring much better.

As he watched the buildings pass by his window, he thought back to the first and only time he'd been to this city. He had been about ten years old and his father had been with him. It had been one of the few occasions when his old man had bothered to pretend that he wanted to spend time with his son. His father had called it a family vacation when he'd told his colleagues about it, but Tony had known that that wasn't even remotely true. They hadn't been a family for a long time - if ever.

Nevertheless it had been one of the better trips he'd had to endure with the man, mostly because his father really hadn't spent much time with him. He'd been too busy with the blonde bimbos down in the hotel lobby to care about what his son was doing. It had given Tony the time to explore the secret parts of this city by himself. He had pretended to be an adventurer and the fun he'd had and the interesting people he'd met along the way had almost let him forget that somewhere, deep down, he still wished that his father would accompany him on these expeditions. In hindsight he realized that he had seriously endangered himself, wandering around the city by himself, going up to various people to chat a bit. He'd been lucky that the people he'd met had been very friendly and didn't mind entertaining a lonely 10 year old boy. Tony wondered what his father would have done if he hadn't come home one day because he'd met the wrong person. Would he have even noticed?

Oh well, at least the man hadn't flown home without him again.

Tony banished the gloomy thoughts and concentrated on his surroundings again. He recognized a few of the buildings and streets but all in all, DC had changed a lot in the last fifteen years or so. Everything seemed a lot more... _blurry._

Maybe the lack of sleep was catching up with him. He had already suppressed a few mighty yawns and the headache he suffered since the airplane touched ground was slowly getting worse.

But maybe his blurry sight had more to do with the maniac that was driving the car. A maniac by the name of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, hard-core bastard, traffic offender, and Tony's new boss.

"Did I miss something or are we already on a case, chasing a suspect?" Tony asked and held on for dear life when Gibbs took a shortcut through a traffic island.

Another driver had to brake hard and Gibbs grumbled something about inept drivers before fixing his new agent with a glare. "We're already late. If you hadn't delayed us with your antics I wouldn't have to rush now."

"Antics? What antics? It wasn't my fault that lovely Caroline from the checkout wouldn't let me go before I had her number."

"Ah, so your shameless begging didn't have anything to do with it?" Gibbs asked and smirked rather cruelly.

Tony spluttered while Ducky, who was watching the exchange from the backseat, chuckled discreetly. "I wasn't begging! Anthony DiNozzo does not beg a woman, it's the other way around." Gibbs snorted at that and Tony decided that it was time to change the subject. "And even if we're late, don't you think Director Marrow will have to wait a lot longer when you drive us into our early graves?"

"It's Morrow, my dear boy." Ducky corrected from behind him. "And don't worry so much. Jethro's methods of transportation may seem a little hazardous, but he always gets us home safely."

The Italian slumped into his seat. He was really tired and only wanted to sleep which was nearly impossible, with the shaking and rumbling of the car and his constant fear for his life. "Yeah, well if you say so Ducky. It's just gonna take a while to convince my racing heart of that."

"I assure you, you'll get used to it. You have to if you want to work with Jethro. He's pretty adamant about driving himself. Doesn't like it when someone else is holding the wheel."

"Ah I see! He likes to be in control. Figures." Tony said and turned in his seat to see the doctor better. "I'm sure he's also one of those guys that never ask for directions, huh?"

"Oh yes. You wouldn't believe how many times we got lost because of his stubbornness. There was one particular incident I remember quite clearly. We had been in Chicago when he-"

"You know what else kind of guy I am?" Gibbs snarled through his teeth. "The kind of guy who doesn't like to be talked about as if he isn't there, so knock it off you two."

Tony and the old ME grinned and winked at each other before Tony turned back around. Ducky leaned forward to pat Gibbs shoulder. "You are right old friend, that was rude of us." He turned to Tony. "I'll tell you the story another time. When he _really_ isn't around."

Gibbs was practically seething, but Tony saw that it was mostly an act. Not entirely, but mostly. He snickered but stopped when Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head. Despite the flare of his headache, the action caused his grin to widen. He probably would have teased his new boss a bit more if he hadn't wanted to make sure that Gibbs kept both his hands on the steering wheel. Ducky's trust in Gibbs' abilities as a driver was admirable, but Tony wasn't quite there yet.

They continued in companionable silence for a few miles before Ducky broke it hesitantly. "Anthony, please excuse my curiosity, but I couldn't help but notice that you have only one traveling bag with you. Where are your other things? And where are you going to live, if I may ask? If you don't have anything I would be happy to let you have the guest room in my house."

Tony was touched by the other man's offer, especially since he knew that it was sincere. Ducky really would let him bunk with him if he needed it. The former detective also noticed that Gibbs' attention seemed to drift towards him as well. Even though his eyes never left the road, Tony felt as if his new boss was watching his every move. He almost didn't dare hope, but maybe Gibbs was concerned about his living conditions as well.

Tony didn't understand why two men who barely knew him would care about where he would live, but the fact that they did made him happy nonetheless.

"Oh it's all taken care of, Ducky, don't worry. An old friend of mine has a little house here. He's in China right now, on business. I can use his place while he is gone, and Signora Moretti agreed to keep my stuff save until I find a place of my own."

In fact, Tony had planned to rent a storage place where he could keep his things for the time being but the fierce Italian woman had put a stop to that notion immediately. She told him that she wouldn't let him spent money on such a thing when she and her husband had an empty garage where they could store his stuff. Tony originally hadn't wanted to bother her, but in the end the woman had gotten her way.

She always did.

Tony thought he saw Gibbs' shoulders relax a little, but told himself that it was just his imagination.

"Does this friend have a name?" Gibbs asked which caused Tony to roll his eyes. He had pretty much accepted that it would be hard to keep his private life actually private around his new boss, but he hadn't expected that he would need Gibbs' approval concerning his friends too.

"Of course he does." Tony replied with just a hint of snotty brat coloring his voice, which immediately earned him a stern look. "It's Jimmy Nixon. You even met him once, remember?"

Gibbs frowned thoughtfully, but soon shook his head. "Can't say I do."

The Italian wasn't surprised. After all it had been a brief meeting in front of his school. Not to mention that it happened over 15 years ago.

"Well, you left a lasting impression on Jimmy though." Tony grinned when he remembered the way Nixon had pestered him about the imposing agent in the short weeks before DiNozzo Sr. had sent his son to military school. Jimmy, or Jim, as he wanted to be called now, was the only one Tony had kept in contact with.

Gibbs grunted noncommittally before he suddenly pulled into a parking lot.

Tony was perplexed and then simply annoyed when he saw where they were. He stared at the Starbucks sign with a scowl rivaling Gibbs.

"I thought we were in a hurry?"

Gibbs merely shrugged and got out of the car. "We're already late. A few minutes won't hurt."

Before Tony could answer, the car door was in his face and Gibbs was striding towards the coffee shop. A man on a mission. The Italian turned towards the doctor in the backseat and was only slightly miffed to see the older man openly laughing at him. "He does that on purpose, doesn't he? He's trying to drive me crazy. That's why I'm here, right?"

"Don't worry. Jethro's like that with everyone."

Tony slumped in his seat and closed his eyes. They felt heavy and gritty, but he didn't even have the strength to lift his arm to rub at them. He fought off another yawn before he murmured. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Despite the heavy sarcasm, Tony admitted that it kinda did. It was nice to be treated like everyone else once in a while. With colleagues and superiors he'd always been an outsider in one way or another. They had either seen him as some kind of wonder boy and treated him with impersonal respect or resented him for that reputation and acted as if he was the enemy.

But Gibbs wouldn't do either of those things. At least Tony hoped he wouldn't.

He heard Ducky chuckle again, but the sound was slightly off, as if it was coming from far away. Before he could wonder what was up with that, he realized that he couldn't care less and tilted his entire body to the side to rest his aching head against the cool glass. The young man decided that he would just rest his eyes for a few seconds. Only until his boss got back...

By the time Gibbs returned, the young agent was snoring softly.

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Ten minutes later, Gibbs finally pulled into the underground parking garage of NCIS headquarters.

Normally, this trip wouldn't have taken him half that long. A fact Ducky was more than happy to point out.

Repeatedly.

Gibbs claimed that he simply didn't want to spill his coffee, but he knew that he couldn't fool Ducky, so he didn't try too hard. Instead he kept quiet and shot the occasional glance towards his sleeping partner. The former Marine himself had never been quite able to sleep in a moving car, but Tony seemed to be the kind of guy who could make the best of any given situation. He hadn't even stirred when Gibbs had returned to the car with his precious coffee in hand. Gibbs knew that Tony was usually more aware of his surroundings. The last few days must have finally caught up with the young man.

He parked the car in its usual place, killed the engine and took a few minutes to prepare himself for their meeting with Morrow. This was the first time he had willingly chosen a senior agent himself, and Tom hadn't been able to keep the curiosity out of his voice when they had spoken on the phone. Gibbs didn't look forward to this first meeting. Morrow was a pretty easy going Director, but Tony had the tendency to rub people the wrong way when he first met them. And the first impression was crucial in this case.

"Is something wrong Jethro?" Ducky asked softly when his friend made no move to get out of the car.

"Just wondering how much trouble this kid is going to cause me."

He looked into the rear-view mirror to see the old ME shoot an anxious glance at the sleeping man. Only then did he realize that the overly sensitive young man could take his words the wrong way. Gibbs wasn't used to being considerate of the people around him, but the kid could be surprisingly insecure when it came to the opinions of others about him.

Thankfully, DiNozzo was still deeply asleep and Gibbs released an aggravated breath. Dealing with DiNozzo was already proving to be a mine field.

"Do you regret bringing him here?" The voice was a mere whisper now, but Gibbs' answer was all the more firm.

"No."

He didn't regret this at all. No matter how hard it would be to gain Tony's trust, and give his trust in return, he would never regret bringing the kid into his life. It had been the right thing to do and he would see it through to the end, no matter how things turned out. He owed DiNozzo that much.

Although Ducky had tried to convince him that he had no reason to feel guilty about Tony's past and the part he'd played in it, he couldn't help but think that, evidence or not, he should've taken the boy away from his father when he'd had the chance. In the end Tony had managed on his own to get away from the man who'd fathered him. He was an adult now, but Gibbs still felt responsible for him. A part of him knew that responsible wasn't quite the word he was looking for, but for now he was content to go with that.

He cast another glance into the rear-view mirror and just caught a blur of black before a familiar Goth popped up by his door. Abby was bouncing up and down as she knocked her knuckles against his window with enough force to make it rattle loudly. Gibbs hastily opened the window and pointed his chin in Tony's direction when he saw her open her mouth.

Her mouth snapped shut and she bent down to steal a peek of the new agent. Abby's smile grew a thousand times sunnier when her eyes landed on the sleeping man. Gibbs turned to look at Tony as well and even he couldn't help the little grin when he saw the thin trail of drool on Tony's chin and the serene expression on his face.

"Gosh, he's adorable!" Abby cooed in a subdued voice. Gibbs noticed that she was dressed especially extraordinary today. A thick line of black eyeliner surrounded her eyes and her lips were painted blood red while the rest of her skin was unnaturally pale, undoubtedly the result of more make-up. The dress she wore was completely dark as well, a stark contrast to the girly frills that adorned the collar. She looked like a dark princess.

Gibbs had seen that before. Every time a new agent joined their team, she would choose the most provocative attire she could find. It was, she used to tell them, the first crucial test for the newbies. If they weren't scared off by that, they were worth keeping around.

"How did you know we were here?"

She didn't take her eyes off the man in the passenger seat. "Surveillance cameras are a blast aren't they? Especially if you have the equipment to hack into them. Anyway, don't change the subject. When are you going to adopt him? Cause if you don't, I will!"

Gibbs blinked a few times. No one was able to throw him off his track as fast and as completely as the young enthusiastic woman. "No one**'**s getting adopted Abs. He's my new senior field agent, not my puppy."

"But he totally is!" Abby managed to shout-whisper. "Look at him! So cute and peaceful. Don't you want to just cuddle him?"

Gibbs raised an amused eyebrow while Ducky got out of the car and put an amiable arm around her shoulders, voicing what his friend was thinking. "Please trust me; once he's awake, there is nothing peaceful about that boy anymore. And it's good to see you too, Abigail."

Abby looked embarrassed for all but two seconds before she threw her arms around the older man. "Aww, I'm sorry Duckster. You know how I am around fresh meat."

"Oh, don't I know it. Are you coming Jethro?"

Gibbs nodded and was about to reach over and wake DiNozzo when Abby's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked questioningly at her and was surprised to see a wicked light in her eyes.

"Let me."

He didn't resist. When Abby was in that kind of mood, you didn't get in her way. People that did usually got hurt.

"Don't damage him too much." was all he said before he got out of the car and followed Ducky. He cast a last look over his shoulder to see the Goth climb into the car and lean over the still sleeping man, her painted face hanging right over his.

He wondered if he should intervene, but decided that Tony would have to get used to their mascot sooner than later and let them be.

Ducky was already waiting in the elevator, and Gibbs hurried to join him. Just before the doors closed, he could hear a high pitched scream and Abby's hysterical laughter ringing through the garage.

"Poor boy." Ducky muttered.

Gibbs wholeheartedly agreed.

TBC

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Remember Jimmy (or now Jim, since I don't want you to confuse him with our Jimmy)? I was thinking about a name for Tony's friend when I remembered that a few people expressed the wish to see little Jimmy Nixon from TDBTD again so I thought, 'Hey, why not?' That decision actually led to a few drastic plot changes. I can't reveal more without totally spoiling you but you will know it when it happens.

So, what do you think? Did the first chapter disappoint or was it alright? Next time, Abby and Tony meet and an amused Director Morrow is... well, amused. Don't forget to leave a few words and see you next week.

Melon


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me and I don't make money with this story. That's only for your and my amusement.

A/N: Not much to say about this chapter, just that I didn't go with canon here (Canon suggests that Abby didn't like Tony all that much at first). In my universe she's... well, kinda nice. You'll see. :)

Thanks so much for your reviews, story and favorite alerts for this story. I loved every single one of them. Sadly I don't have the time to answer them but please know that they all mean very much to me.

This chapter was once again beta'd by **AZGirl**, the most amazing girl ever. All remaining mistakes are my own.

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 02

Voices broke through the fog that clouded Tony's mind, but he was too tired and exhausted to try and concentrate on what they were saying. Somewhere deep down he knew that he was sleeping and about to wake up, but a great weight seemed to pull him down every time his consciousness tried to rise fully. He couldn't say that he was bothered by that. He liked where he was right now - so peaceful and relaxing. If he could stay a little bit longer in that void, Tony would be a happy little agent.

But just as the voices faded again and he thought he would be able to succumb to sleep once again, he felt a weight settle on his chest, more real than the one that wanted to drag him back to sleep. Whatever had put up camp on his chest didn't cut off his air supply but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. Not quite awake yet he shifted sluggishly to dislodge the annoyance. Instead of disappearing though, the weight giggled softly and Tony finally realized that this thing was actually a person. A female person.

"Wa~ke up, To~ny." The voice sing-songed in a sweet tone and the Italian couldn't help but obey - he had always been a sucker for demands whispered by a woman. His sleep-addled brain was still wrapped up in confusion and for a moment he forgot that he wasn't in Baltimore anymore and that he had fallen asleep in a car. For a moment he thought that he was back home and one of his 'acquaintances' was trying to wake him for a second round of sheet-tangling.

And so, with a sleepy smile and a blissful 'Hmm', he slowly opened his eyes...

Only to come face to face with the scariest sight he had ever seen. Big green eyes were framed by a thick black line, turning them into sunken hollows in a ghastly white face. Lips that looked like they were dripping with blood curled at the corners into a cruel imitation of a smile, twisting the features of the woman into a horrid grimace. A blood red mouth parted and a tongue slipped out to wet the upper lip.

And then a voice spoke, low and sinister, sending puffs of breath across his cheeks.

"Welcome to hell, sweetheart."

Later, Tony would deny that he screamed like a little girl and desperately pushed against the being that straddled his lap. The woman was laughing hysterically in his face when he was finally able to push her away. She was still draped half over him but now her upper body was tilting slightly to the side as well, twisting her body into a position that had to be at least uncomfortable.

Despite his panic, Tony knew that he wouldn't be able to escape without seriously hurting the girl, but he also realized that he had no desire to cause her harm. The moment he heard her laughter he gathered all the bravery he could muster to take another look at her face and that's when he noticed that she didn't look all that scary anymore.

Now that she wasn't up close and grinning into his face like the Joker himself that is.

He ceased his struggles and tried to calm his ragged breathing, all the while staring at the still snickering Goth in his lap. Because, now that he wasn't freaking out anymore, he could see that that's what she was.

"Wha- Who the hell are you?" he managed to wheeze through gritted teeth. He still didn't know what to think of this strange woman.

The prankster eventually got her chuckling under control and leaned back against the dash board with crossed arms. Tony couldn't believe it but despite the awkward position she actually managed to look absolutely cool and relaxed while she did so.

"Sorry for the scare, but I just couldn't resist." She chuckled again and for the first time Tony was aware of the fact that the movement transferred immediately to his lap. Normally, a moving woman on his sensitive parts would have caused some kind of reaction from 'little DiNozzo', but with this woman there was nothing. He felt no kind of sexual attraction towards her. He knew it had nothing to do with her appearance. After all, he had dated quite his share of odd birds over the years and he could see that under all that make-up, she was quite beautiful.

She leaned forward again and bumped her forehead against his, a move that was strangely intimate coming from a woman he didn't even know yet.

"You scream like a girl, you know that?" she teased and Tony couldn't help the surprised laugh that escaped him. This situation was just too bizarre.

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Do not! And I still don't know your name. Or are you trying to stay the mysterious woman a little bit longer?"

She grinned and bounced up and down on Tony's lap. Still no reaction from 'little DiNozzo'.

Curious.

"I'd like that, but no, you can have my name if you want, Tony. After all we're going to be working together from now on and we're going to be best friends, you and I. We're going to go clubbing and watch movies all night long and if some guy gets too close you can scare him off. I really hope you don't fight like you scream because that would make it so much more difficult-"

"Whoa, wait, wait!" Tony shouted and waved his hands in a warding gesture. "You work here? Seriously?" he asked, deciding that he would ignore the fact that he had apparently already found a new best friend without doing much more than sitting there and staring at her like a gaping fish.

She gave him a look that told him that she thought he was an idiot. An idiot she was especially fond of. "Well, I don't make a habit of jumping people in random underground garages, do I? I work in the lab, although it would be much more accurate to say that I live there, considering my working hours. Name's Abigail Scuito, but you can call me Abby or Abs or simply 'Goddess of all that is dark and beautiful'. Your choice."

Tony grinned and shook her hand in greeting. "I'm Anthony DiNozzo, but you already know that."

"Oh I know all about you, Tony." She winked at him but there was something about her voice and the way her eyes shifted to the side for a split second that made Tony uneasy about her comment, like there was more to it than she was ready to admit.

Abby seemed to notice the sudden tension and he could see in her eyes that she desperately wanted to change the subject without giving away that anything was amiss. Seeing her in distress bothered him more than he thought it should and he took pity on her.

"Where are Gibbs and Ducky?" he asked and the Goth immediately pounced on the chance to steer the conversation on a different path.

"Oh, Ducky went to autopsy and Boss-man is already on his way up to Morrow. You should probably go too."

Tony was faintly amused when he looked down their entangled limbs. His initial struggle had dislodged her original position and now her legs were effectively stuck, and so, in turn, was Tony. "I probably should. But the question is: how do _we_ get out of the car?"

Abby followed his gaze and an astonished expression crossed her face as if she was just now realizing their precarious situation. She wiggled a little to the left and then to the right without accomplishing much of anything.

"Geez, Gibbs finds out about this and he is so going to force me to cut back on my Caff-Pow's." Abby muttered, before shrugging and shooting him a sheepish smile. "Well again; welcome to NCIS. Better get used to the insanity."

Despite the fact that he was going to be late for his first meeting with Director Morrow, Tony soon joined her carefree laughter. When he'd imagined his first day at NCIS, being trapped in a car with a Goth on his lap certainly hadn't crossed his mind.

Insanity indeed.

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"Your boy is late." Morrow observed while his eyes wandered around the bullpen. It wasn't a reproach but a mere observation, the desperate means to start a conversation with the silent man that waited with him. Tom had always been quite lenient with his agents when it came to punctuality. Working for an agency were lives depended on you put things into perspective. The director had long since decided that he had no problem overlooking tardiness when it came to the men and women that risked their life for others on a daily basis.

No, Tom wasn't annoyed, far from it. He was actually amused because he knew that _Gibbs_ was annoyed. In the past five minutes his best agent had shot the occasional glance towards the clock and each time the lines around his eyes had gotten a little bit tighter. It was refreshing to see Gibbs act like that because of an agent Tom _hadn't_ chosen. In fact, it gave him a weird satisfaction.

"Abby was supposed to bring him here."

Morrow winced sympathetically. "Was there no way to stop her?" Gibbs shot him a look and Morrow decided to drop the topic. He knew better after all. Instead he fixed his best agent with steady eyes, determined to get some answers to the questions that had bugged him ever since Gibbs had first told him about the kid. "I don't suppose you are ready to tell me what's so special about Anthony DiNozzo that you had to bring him here by any means, are you?"

Gibbs eyebrows narrowed a tiny fraction, the only indication that he didn't like to be questioned like that. "You read the report Michael Boston emailed you, didn't you?"

"I did." Morrow conceded. "And it's quite impressive. DiNozzo is obviously a very talented investigator but that still doesn't explain why you wanted him on your team." He raised his hand when he saw that Gibbs wanted to play dumb. "You've met a lot of impressive detectives and agents over the years, but you never wanted one of them on your team so badly. For God's sake, you even threatened me when I expressed reservations."

"I didn't threaten you."

"Call it what you like, but telling me in that 'Do as I say, or die' voice of yours that I would regret it if I refused, is hardly the way I start a friendly discussion."

Tom vividly remembered the chills that had traveled down his spine when Gibbs had hung up on him. He didn't hold it against Gibbs, though. They had worked together for far too long to let little differences in opinion get in the way. And Gibbs was by far the best agent he'd ever worked with. If he had to put up with the odd idle threat once in a while to keep him, he was willing to sacrifice that small chunk of his pride. Talk about putting things in perspective...

"'Do as I say, or die' voice?" Gibbs repeated, with just a hint of amusement.

"Don't change the subject. Now tell me, what's going on with the two of you?"

The former Marine huffed angrily, and ran a frustrated hand through his graying hair. "It's complicated. We knew each other when he was a little kid and some stuff happened."

When he refused to explain further, Morrow dropped into an empty chair and exhaled a sardonic laugh. "That's not complicated. You simply don't want to tell me." Gibbs neither denied nor agreed. "Just answer me one more question. Will this... 'stuff that happened', be a problem?"

This time Gibbs didn't hesitate. "No sir, it won't."

Tom didn't know if he should really believe that, but before he could grill Gibbs a bit more about the matter, the elevator opened and two giggling teenagers burst into the bullpen. Only on second sight did Morrow realized that the two strangers weren't teenagers, but Abby Scuito and a man he presumed to be Anthony DiNozzo. The two were clinging to each other's arms like old friends and laughing so hard that Abby had to fight tears. Their clothes were rumpled and crooked and for a moment Morrow thought that the two had had sex, but then realized the foolishness of such a thought. He didn't know about DiNozzo, but Abby wasn't that kind of girl.

He took a moment to inspect the newest addition to Team-Gibbs, and despite his initial reservations about bringing such a young man into NCIS, he already liked what he was seeing. Appearances didn't matter all that much to Tom but it was obvious that Anthony DiNozzo played some kind of sport, and a healthy body was always an advantage in their line of work. Furthermore, he was glad to see that the young Italian seemed to already get along really well with their resident Goth. Certainly not a bad thing, considering that Abby was Gibbs' special charge.

"I don't believe we actually did it without breaking every single bone in our bodies." DiNozzo was saying, still bent over from laughing and completely oblivious to their audience.

"I told you, I practice yoga from time to time. I knew it would come in handy one day."

"You'll have to teach me a bit. I know other situations where that kind of agility would come in handy." DiNozzo said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and making the girl laugh and punch his arm.

They were still laughing when Gibbs suddenly loomed behind them and simultaneously swatted them both over the head. Tom suppressed a grin when the lab rat and the new agent winced and turned towards him with exactly the same doe-eyed expressions on their faces, an indignant Boss and Gibbs escaping their lips.

"Where have you two been?" Gibbs asked, not at all affected by the big, hurt eyes.

Tony and Abby exchanged a quick look. "I was just showing him around, Boss-man." Abby said. "You know, my lab and autopsy and where the toilets are of course. He needs to know those things."

"Yep, exactly." Tony nodded and bumped her shoulder with his. "She gave me quite the tour."

Their boss looked unconvinced and the two 'kids' kept going on hoping to distract him from their obvious lie. As Gibbs watched Tom thought he saw a soft smile play around his lips from time to time. The sight was so unexpected and unfamiliar that he nearly fell out of his seat. He looked from the Gunny to the Italian and back and suddenly it dawned on him that, maybe, he really had no reason to be worried.

Maybe everything would work out okay.

"Well," Abby drawled. "I need to get back to my lab."

She turned to Tony and hugged him hard. Tom was surprised to see the startled look on Tony's face and that he returned the gesture almost warily. After the closeness he had witnessed he would have thought that something like a friendly hug would only be natural for the two.

If Abby noticed his hesitation, she didn't show it. "See you Tony. You should totally come by and see my lab some time. You have to meet Bert!"

Before Tony could ask who Bert was, Gibbs put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at the two. The smile was anything but nice though.

"I thought you already showed him your lab?"

Abby fidgeted under his stare and Tony had a hard time keeping still as well. After a couple of seconds the Goth suddenly cupped her ear and looked towards the elevator. "What? Did I hear someone call my name? Well, I better get moving. See you two around." And with that she was gone, leaving Tony alone with a very smug Gibbs.

DiNozzo wormed his way out from under Gibbs hand and smiled shyly at him before inspecting his surroundings "What a nice bullpen. Feels really homey already. And so many other agents milling around. I guess it would be hard to maim someone here with so many _witnesses_ around to see it."

Tom finally broke his silence and snorted. He really couldn't understand how and why Gibbs chose such a person as his partner. He couldn't see the former Marine putting up with that kind of behavior for long before finally snapping.

"Well Jethro, I'll leave you two alone for now."

Gibbs stopped intimidating the young man in front of him long enough to shift his attention to Morrow. "Are you sure Director? I thought you wanted to speak to him."

DiNozzo's eyes lit up in recognition and he blushed furiously. Poor boy was probably mortified by the fact that his new superior had witnessed that little display. The thought made Tom grin even harder.

"Ah, no. I've seen enough." he said and made his way towards his office. "You already have your work cut out for you enough as it is. I have full confidence that you'll handle him to my satisfaction."

He heard a low "You bet I will" and a worried gasp and decided that - good agent or not - Anthony DiNozzo would definitely make things much more exciting around here.

He didn't know yet how right he was about that.

TBC

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**A/N:** I have seen many different versions of Abby and Tony's first meeting but I've never seen one where Abby scares the shit out of our little Italian (if there is something similar then, again, I have not seen it). I hope you liked it. Let me know if you did.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Nuff said.

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews and alerts and stuff. I didn't know how much I missed the NCIS fandom until I started writing again. My laptop was down for the past few days, so I'm just happy that it works again so I can upload on time.

This chapter was once again beta'd by **AZGirl**! Love ya!

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 03

Tony's first week as an NCIS Agent was, surprisingly enough, incredibly boring.

Instead of chasing criminals and interrogating suspects, Gibbs had decided that they would review cold cases to ease DiNozzo into his new environment. To give him time to adjust to the ways things worked in an Agency and to familiarize him with military jargon.

Tony had tried to tell him that he went to military school and therefore was sufficiently familiar with everything military. Gibbs, of course, had disagreed and argued that his school years were long over and that he might not remember everything. The Italian on the other hand thought that this was a load of bull and had told his boss so repeatedly. And repeatedly, he received punishment.

Not that that little fact had deterred him - quite the opposite instead. He found that annoying Gibbs was proving to be the only enjoyable pastime he was granted right now. Gibbs was surprisingly lenient apart from the swats to his head and the occasional glare. Tony had chalked it up to some kind of newbie-indulgence and he intended to take full advantage of it as long as it may last. But judging from the vein pulsing on Gibbs' forehead and the way it seemed to grow larger with each passing second he doubted that he'd have to wait long.

Maybe Gibbs would finally realize that cold cases weren't enough for his new agent and finally accept a real one. Worst case-scenario in continuing to bait Gibbs would be the head-slap of his life and a dressing down from hell.

It didn't take him long to decide that it was worth the risk.

That as it may be, Tony spent the first seven days reading boring files that were already very dusty and alternately staring at his watch, wondering if time actually _could_ slow down.

His suffering had only been interrupted by the daily visits of his favorite Goth.

He and Abby had become fast friends after their adventure in the parking lot. They didn't have all that much in common, but nonetheless always found something to talk about. Tony soon realized that, despite her unhealthy interest in the dark side, Abby was a really fun-loving individual. She was refreshingly open in her affections and although Tony still had trouble with her sneaky hug-attacks, he was getting more and more used to them.

No one in his family had been overly affectionate. Tony couldn't remember a time when he'd seen his father hug his mother or, God forbid, him. While Rose, their maid and his only friend in his father's house, had put the occasional arm around his shoulders, he had always been aware of the instinctual distance she kept between them. After all she was only the help and he was her employer's son. You could only get so close to the son of the man who signed your paycheck before risking your job, especially if that man was DiNozzo Sr.

Mia had only hugged him a few times. When she had still been crushing on him, Tony hadn't wanted to lead her on and had severely limited their contact.. When they decided to stay friends, she apparently thought that being overly friendly with him – physically speaking – would look like she still wasn't over him. Only when she'd met her husband had they been able to relax around each other, but by then she had already been halfway to Paris.

He had shared some pretty intense moments with his girlfriends of course, but that had nothing to do with what Abby did. When Abby hugged you, there was nothing sexual about the act. She just loved to wrap her arms around the people that were important to her, to show them that she cared and thought about them. When Abby closed her arms around you, you felt immediately just a tiny bit more important, more wanted.

Apart from chatting about the most trivial things, Abby had also soon declared that she'd find the 'most awesome' apartment for her new friend. She was always reading the advertisements in the newspaper and circling the most promising offers for him before coming up to the bullpen to present her findings.

It was a nice gesture except that Tony had to explain to her several times why he was uncomfortable with living near an old burial site or the graveyard. This usually led to heated discussions which sooner or later turned into shouting matches before Abby decided to make her point by punching his arm and he pretending that it actually hurt.

She really was an unusual woman.

More than once, the Italian caught a glimpse of Gibbs, smirking at them from his desk during one of those scenes. There was always a flash of amusement and fondness in his eyes before it was replaced by irritation. That was usually the moment the agent finally broke them up, stating that they should stop acting like children.

More often than not Tony wondered why Gibbs even allowed Abby to visit him or why he didn't break them up sooner. Tony was certainly aware that he wasn't exactly acting like an adult when he was with the lab rat and he thought that, given his strict nature, Gibbs wouldn't tolerate such behavior. Tony didn't complain of course, but it amazed him nonetheless.

Another thing that amazed him was Gibbs' attempts to get to know him on a personal level as well. They spent their lunch breaks together – more often than not with either Abby or Ducky accompanying them – and talked about anything but work related issues. It soon became apparent that Gibbs had no clue about the joy of good movies, especially the classics. Tony found himself enthusiastically planning a movie night with Gibbs to show the man all his favorites as soon as he got his own place. But while Sean Connery and James Dean couldn't thrill Gibbs, they both enjoyed talking about sports.

It was nice, Tony thought, to see this more personal side of his boss although he really didn't know what to make of it. The man had even invited him into his home after a particular long day, and Tony had been tempted to accept but in the end had declined claiming that he already had a date. He was curious about Gibbs' home but at the same time wary. Mike hadn't invited him over for dinner until after three months into their partnership and even that had seemed a bit early for the Italian. Gibbs behavior confused him and, although he'd never admit that, also scared him a little. Too much was happening too soon and he began to feel crowded and awkward around the man. Thankfully Gibbs seemed to get that because he didn't repeat the invitation.

The other agents on the other hand, had rarely approached him. Only when he met them in the hallway or in the break-room did they smile and exchange a few polite words with him. In Tony's eyes that was a good start and more than he'd expected.

Therefore, he was all the more surprised to discover the piece of paper taped to his monitor this morning. At first he'd grinned, thinking that he'd received his first love letter from one of his fellow female colleagues. But when he'd flipped it over to actually read it, the grin soon vanished, leaving a deep frown in its wake.

It was a note, telling him that he should leave, because they didn't need brats who let their 'Daddy's money' buy them their promotions. Definitely not a declaration of love – not even close."]]

Tony had simply stood there for a moment, staring at the letters, before crumpling the paper in his fist with a resigned sigh. He was used to stuff like that from his other jobs, but somehow he'd still hoped that NCIS would prove to be different. His best option was to ignore the taunts – since he was sure that this wouldn't be the last one – and wait this out until the dimwits got bored and left him alone. That could take a while, but the Italian was determined to sit this out. Despite this unpleasant setback, he really enjoyed being an agent so far and he couldn't wait until he finally worked a real case with Gibbs.

For a moment he wondered how they had found out about his father. Gibbs and Ducky were the only ones that knew although he suspected that Abby knew as well. Whether Gibbs had told her or she'd figured it out herself with her mad-computer skills was anyone's guess. Whatever the circumstances, Tony didn't believe for a second that one of the three had told anyone about his 'rich Daddy'.

Someone had probably recognized his name. His father was, after all, quite an important character in the business world. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that someone had made the connections themselves.

The note wasn't the worst he'd received in his years as a detective and it had made its way into the trashcan faster than he could say 'Armani'. He would have forgotten about it in fact, if it hadn't been for the weird looks he'd gotten all day. While previous tormentors had looked at him with disdain and jealously, they had never looked at him with hate pouring from their eyes. Throughout the day Tony had had the feeling that some agents went out of their way to pass his desk just so they could show him just how much they didn't want him around. He really didn't think that a wealthy father was such a horrible thing so he wondered what other kind of rumors had been traveling around the building that he didn't know about.

The thought made him uncomfortable and while he tried not to show it he couldn't help tapping his pencil against his desk while his eyes were fixed on the file in front of him. He also tried to pretend that he didn't notice Gibbs watching him but that became impossible when his boss finally stalked over to his desk and yanked the pencil out of his hand.

"DiNozzo. With me." Gibbs barked and walked towards the elevator.

For one tiny moment Tony contemplated running to Abby and hiding with Bert under her desk but in the end he followed his boss, preparing himself to face the music. A coward, he was not.

They entered the elevator and Tony was only marginally surprised when Gibbs flipped the emergency stop switch a few seconds after the doors had closed. The cab was pretty small and while Tony wasn't claustrophobic he supposed that he was well on his way to become 'Alone-with-Gibbs-in-elevator-phobic' when the older man invaded his personal bubble and stared him straight in the eye.

"Care to tell me what's going on with you today?" The voice was decidedly calm but there was no missing the steel behind the words.

Tony leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms, the poster-boy for collected and calm, although he felt anything but. Right now he just wanted to get as much space between them as he could. "Nothing Boss. Just my general awesomeness. I know it's hard to get used to at first, but in time you'll manage."

Gibbs didn't grin back. "Don't give me that DiNozzo. You're distracted and I want to know why."

Tony felt a brief flash of indignation. It wasn't like his distractedness hampered his job performance or anything. They weren't even working on a real case yet. And just because Gibbs was his boss now didn't mean that Tony had to tell him everything that was going on with his life. Sure, for a moment he'd considered telling him about the note, but then he'd realized what a wuss that would make him. He wasn't a tattletale and it wasn't in him to ask for help for such a ridiculous matter – besides, it was only one note. It wasn't like Gibbs could do anything about it anyway. He would just have to deal with this alone. Like he always did.

"It's nothing I can't handle myself." He knew his eyes told Gibbs to back off and the former marine actually did, at least physically. The older man retreated to the other corner and mirrored Tony's slouch. His eyes seemed to pierce the very soul of the man in front of him and it was all Tony could do to keep from fidgeting under those icy blues. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours before Gibbs finally spoke.

"You still don't trust me." It wasn't an accusation. The man was merely stating a fact, voice low as if he was talking to himself. DiNozzo was stumped but not for long. As an undercover specialist you needed to think on your feet and he soon found himself forcing a smile onto his lips.

"Of course I trust you."

And that was the truth. He really did trust Gibbs. He trusted him to have his six in the field. He trusted him to shoot anyone that threatened him. Trusted him on a professional level like he'd trusted no one else before.

But with his personal life? With his insecurities, secrets and inner demons? Not so much.

Gibbs seemed to know that and while he wasn't happy about it, he didn't press the matter either. This was actually the very first time he had addressed the trust issue between them - hinted at the elephant in the room that both of them knew but didn't talk about.

This silence had gone a long way to help Tony ignore the fact that his painful secret wasn't that secret anymore. Occasionally he'd even thought that Gibbs had decided to ignore it once and for all as well. He had been horrified to learn that the idea had not only filled him with relief but also with a deep seated sadness and disappointment. No way in hell did he want Gibbs to corner him about his childhood, but the possibility that anyone would care enough to try had been strangely appealing. He'd pushed those thoughts into the biggest box in his mind and locked it several times up tight.

But now it seemed that Gibbs hadn't forgotten at all and the locks were starting to give way under the pressure.

It was obvious that Gibbs was waiting for more, but Tony wasn't willing to give him that just yet. This wasn't something he wanted to discuss in an elevator - if ever.

"When do we get a real case?"

Gibbs played along, but Tony knew that this was far from over.

"Real case?"

The younger man rolled his eyes. "You know, crimes that didn't happen when the special effects from Star Wars were still mind-boggling."

Gibbs looked puzzled for a moment but apparently decided that it wasn't worth asking about. "I don't know." He sounded pretty smug, much to Tony's dismay. "Are you sure you are ready?"

The young agent spluttered. Gibbs turned away to hide his grin and set the elevator in motion once again.

"Oh come on!" Tony whined. "I can't work on those cold cases anymore. I think I'm actually developing an allergy to dust."

"I seriously doubt that." The doors opened and they found themselves in front of Autopsy. Gibbs got out but before Tony could follow, the man stopped him with a raised hand and shouted over his shoulder, "Get back to your desk and wait. Already talked to Morrow. The next case that comes in is ours."

Tony did a little whoop of joy and punched the button that would get him back to the bullpen. The day was starting to look up again. Not only was the real fun beginning, but he'd also managed to deflect Gibbs' attention from the discussion they still needed to have. If he had any luck at all, he could keep this up until Gibbs finally decided to give up. Maybe then the little voice in his head telling him that he was completely in denial, that he should finally be a man and face this head on, would finally shut up as well.

Little did he know that the case they were about to get would bring everything he'd tried to avoid come crashing down around them.

TBC

Uuhuuuuu! Semi-cliffy! The action and plot will pick up soon, promise. Until then, don't forget to tell me what you think.

See ya next friday.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me. This is just for entertainment and I get no money for this... ah, what a dream that would be...

A/N: Next chapter. Thank you for your reviews! They make me really happy. We don't really celebrate it in germany but I hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving.

This was once again beta'd by AZGirl! I hope you had a great (and relatively stress-free) Thanksgiving as well!

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 04

Ducky didn't even look up when Gibbs entered Autopsy with an annoyed, wordless shout but his new assistant practically jumped out of his skin. For a second the old ME was convinced that the boy would hide behind one of the dissecting tables. Young Gerald was adaptive and usually kept his head, but Ducky had noticed that he seemed to be a bit tense around the seasoned agent. Gibbs certainly had that effect on people, but Ducky himself was used to his unannounced visits and brusque attitude by now and didn't startle anymore. A necessity, especially if your hands were buried in an unfortunate man's torso.

Like now.

"Jethro, could you maybe come back another time? My hands are quite full at the moment."

Gerald turned a little green around the gills, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Gibbs shot the corpse a curt glance and shrugged, obviously deciding that the dead would surely realize that the matter couldn't wait. It never could when it involved Gibbs.

"He's driving me nuts, Duck."

Ducky sighed and regretfully withdrew his hands from Mr. Thomson - as far as he could tell, the victim of poisoning. He'd been about to cut out the heart, a delicate procedure where he didn't need a distraction a la Gibbs. As long as the agent was fuming and demanding his attention, Ducky would have to move on to something a little less complicated. Something that he could do alone.

"Gerald could you bring the samples we took to dear Abigail, please? She'll know what to do."

"Sure Dr. Mallard." After another shy glance towards the agent, Gerald grabbed the samples and

hurriedly left.

"I assume we're talking about Anthony." Ducky said. It wasn't a question really, since the boy was the primary reason Gibbs came to talk to him anymore.

"Who else. Something's bothering him, but he won't tell me what it is."

Gibbs was frustrated. He knew, just knew, that there was something wrong with his agent. Ever since he'd come into work this morning, the man had been nervous and agitated and Gibbs wanted to know why.

"Have you asked Abigail? Maybe she knows more."

"You know that she wouldn't tell me, even if she did."

That had been a huge miscalculation. Initially he'd thought that Abby would be _his_ chief source of information when it came to Tony. But the Goth had apparently decided that her loyalties laid with DiNozzo now. When Gibbs had tried to find out what the two were talking about all the time she'd point-blank told him that she wouldn't betray the Italian's trust like that. Not even the threat of Caff-Pow deprivation had managed to break her. Made her sweat and cry and call him a lot of unpleasant things which would have made the nuns blush – and for which she had immediately apologized, of course - but not break her.

"Well Jethro," Ducky said now, as he wrote something down, "It's been only a week. Not nearly enough time to start trusting you with his problems. You didn't really think that it would be that easy, did you?"

"Of course not."

What he would never tell his friend however was that; _yes_, he'd really thought it would be _that_ easy.

Gibbs was still a Marine. He wasn't used to failure and when he set his mind to something there was no earthly force that was able to stop him. And, more often than, not he didn't even have to muster up too much of an effort to get what he wanted.

And so, naturally, he'd thought that he would get through DiNozzo's thick head if he just used enough force. He'd spent a lot of time with his new agent, cornered him at break to have lunch with him and more or less never let the young man out of his sight. He'd made himself a constant presence in DiNozzo's life, made sure that every time the boy turned, he'd see that Gibbs was there, waiting for him to finally spill his guts. He'd never mentioned the issue itself, giving Tony the false impression of being 'safe', while actually waiting to make his final move. The Marine in him had acknowledged that he was making use of some of the techniques he'd learned overseas, but he'd been determined to make Tony crack. Put him under pressure and then get him alone, preferably in his basement with a bottle of bourbon at hand.

But he'd soon realized that pushing things achieved nothing - except the complete opposite of what he wanted. It had been going well, but when he'd invited Tony into his home he'd clearly heard the alarm bells going off in the young man's head. The suspicion in his eyes was gone as fast as it had come, but Tony had noticeably put a bit more distance between them. The wariness with which the young man regarded him occasionally since the incident told Gibbs that he'd crossed some invisible line. The thought bothered Gibbs more than he cared to admit since he always crossed lines, destroyed them even, to get what he wanted.

But it had opened his eyes to some unpleasant truths: he'd attempted to break Tony like he would break a suspect during interrogation and that hadn't worked out. If he wanted to gain DiNozzo's trust, then he would have to be much more subtle and cautious and the idea filled him with dread.

Gibbs didn't _do_ subtle.

He'd backed off after he'd realized that it wouldn't take much before DiNozzo figured out what he was doing. He didn't think that Tony would take kindly to being manipulated. Problem was, he didn't know how to proceed now. This was turning out to be much more complicated than he'd anticipated and he hated it.

As if reading his thoughts, Ducky sent him an exasperated smile. "Don't worry so much. Give him time, and I'm sure the boy will come to you on his own."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Gibbs snorted. "And technically speaking, I gave him plenty of time - fifteen years." He paced up and down and ran a hand through his hair. "That's how long he had my number, Ducky. He could have called when his good for nothing father sent him to military school."

"I know but-"

"Military school Ducky! Remember how he'd been back then? Can you even imagine a boy like him in military school? God, the brat couldn't follow orders to save his life. Literally."

"I'm sure it hasn't been easy, but-"

"I told him to call me if he needed anything. I want to know what stopped him. I swear Ducky, sometimes I just want to grab him and shake him until he tells me."

"He's not the only one who needs a good shaking." Ducky muttered to himself. Gibbs was obviously not in the mood to listen. Why was the man even coming down here to talk if he didn't care for what Ducky had to say?

But, of course, Gibbs chose exactly that moment and actually pay attention. He shot the older man a dirty look and defensively crossed his arms.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Gibbs probably didn't know it, but he looked and acted pretty petulant right now - much like Anthony would. Ducky would have loved to enlighten his friend but he rather didn't want to end up like Mr. Thomson just yet. "I just mean that, maybe, you shouldn't try to force things so much." He could see Gibbs' features morph into a grimace at the words and wondered why he even bothered anymore. In the end, Gibbs would do what he thought was right, whether that was actually the case or not. All he could do now was attempt some kind of damage control. The old ME made sure to lock eyes with Gibbs before stating imploringly: "Just have a little patience my friend. All will be well."

Gibbs just grumbled to himself.

Unfortunately, he didn't _do_ patience either.

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Tony whistled happily, all the while staring at the phone on his desk, willing it to ring already. Now that Gibbs had finally agreed to take a real case, he couldn't wait to get started.

Sure the two of them had worked together in Baltimore but that had been different. Tony had still been a detective then and Gibbs the agent. Although they had worked together, they hadn't really been partners yet. They hadn't really been a team.

But now they were and the prospect filled Tony with apprehension and increasing anticipation. He knew that he was good – no need to hide his light under a bushel, he told himself – but something about Gibbs still managed to... well, _intimidate_ him. The man had the unpleasant ability to make him feel inferior without even trying to. A seasoned agent and former Marine sniper – anyone would be impressed by _that_, right? Sometimes the older man's gaze alone was enough to resurrect the ugly self-doubts he'd tried to drown in the darkest and deepest well of his mind.

Maybe it was the fact that the man had known him as a child. Back then, when he was still a gangly, awkward kid who shot his mouth off every time he could.

And every time he shouldn't.

He always got edgy around people who knew the old him, even around friends. He wanted to leave his past behind, the person he'd been back then, but every time he met someone from that past it made him realize how impossible that feat actually was. His history would always stay with him, no matter how much he wished to just forget.

But in the past few days he'd found himself wondering just how much Gibbs actually remembered from that time. He had recognized his name, but did he remember the face and the boy to that name as well? Maybe he was agonizing over nothing and Gibbs had forgotten the boy he'd been back then.

It couldn't be denied that Gibbs remembered his father, but then again, DiNozzo Sr. had the talent of infesting the memories of the people that had been unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Or his genes.

Tony shook his head and concentrated on the phone again. He had to stop thinking about his father, something that he'd done way too much of since coming to DC. He didn't want to think about why that was, convinced that simple boredom made his thoughts veer off into directions he didn't want them to take. He was convinced that he just needed a distraction. Something to keep his mind occupied and busy.

A nice, little case for example.

Tony intensified his stare and narrowed his eyes until it turned into a glare, but the rotten thing still wouldn't make a single sound. He chanted a mantra in his head that went something like_ 'ring, ring, come on ring, damn it, ring'_ and wondered if Abby knew a medium that would be able to help him mojo the phone, when a shadow fell over him.

His eyes flickered briefly up - just long enough to meet hard brown eyes - before he lowered them to the offending communication tool that still refused to do his bidding. It was a clear dismissal and by the growl and the fist pounding on his desk, the agent in front of him didn't like it one bit.

Tony had noticed the agent watching him a few minutes ago, but had decided to ignore the man. He hadn't been the first and only one to send him heated glares and Tony hadn't wanted to provoke any trouble. Sadly, that was becoming increasingly unlikely now that the man had decided to take matters into his own hands. And of course he had to act like a Neanderthal, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.

The last thing Tony wanted was a confrontation, but now that every eye in the room rested on him, he didn't have much of a choice. An agency - as with every other closed society, if you thought about it - had a lot in common with the regular school yard. The way you reacted to a challenge for the first time, decided if you would be considered a pushover or the one that actually did the pushing. A reputation that stayed with you until you graduated.

In an agency though, the moment you graduated was synonymous with the moment you died or retired, and Tony didn't plan to do either in the near future. And he didn't plan to be the pushover. He'd had enough of that in his youth.

His gaze was still fixed on the phone, but his body was alert and ready to react if necessary. He kept his voice decidedly calm, almost bored. It didn't take a genius to discern that his new friend didn't like to be ignored.

"I don't know what the desk did to you, but I'm sure a good, long talk and soon you will kiss and make up again. I will leave you two alone for the last part, though."

Tony smirked inwardly when he heard a few restrained chuckles.

DiNozzo 1 – Neanderthal 0

The fist that still rested on his desk twitched and Tony's body stiffened, ready to drop out of sight, but the blow never came.

"Listen _Agent_ DiNozzo," the man hissed. The way he said it made the word 'Agent' sound like something vile. "If you really think you'll survive even one day out there, you are more dense than you look. Daddy's money won't help you when a drug dealer has you at gun point, so I would think twice about going out there."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Tony drawled and finally took a closer look at the man in front of him. The brown eyes were framed by a crooked nose, small lips and unnaturally pointed ears. Blond, long hair kept falling into Mr. Neanderthal's forehead and an overly tanned hand pushed it back. His opponent was wider in the shoulders, but couldn't have been much older or taller than Tony himself. The Italian acknowledged the dim light in his eyes that told him that the man had seen his fair share of gruesome crime scenes as well.

Which was no excuse to act like an ass, though.

"Aren't drug dealers all about making money?" Tony asked now and could see the anger and hatred growing in the other's face when a female agent to his right giggled softly. Mr. Neanderthal sent her a glare and she fell silent immediately. She worried her lips and avoided his eyes, obviously afraid of the much bigger man.

Suffice it to say that Tony's dislike of the man reached new levels.

"You think you are so smart, don't you?" The man leaned down and invaded Tony's personal space. "I know who you are and what you did. What I can't understand is why Gibbs would chose to make you his partner."

_'Join the club.'_ Tony thought dejectedly before the rest of what the guy had said penetrated his mind.

"Who I am? What I did?" he asked with a bemused expression on his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Everyone here knows."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I really don't."

Tony let his eyes wander through the room, but most of the agents that followed the show where avoiding his gaze and those that didn't were obviously in complete agreement with the resident bully. The Italian felt the first signs of discomfort gnawing at his insides. Just what the hell kind of rumors were going around about him? This couldn't be just because of his father and his heritage. There had to be more to it than that.

"Sure you don't." the troublemaker snorted, looking at the crowd in hope of getting approval. "Let me tell you that no one believes a word you say. Once a liar, always a liar. We don't need you here so why don't you go back to wherever you came from and make room for a real agent."

"Like you are?" Tony asked and knew that he'd hit the bullseye when the agent's smirk faltered for a second. "Look buddy, I don't know what your problem is, but I suggest that you either back off or pop a peppermint already."

"And what will you do if I don't?"

Before Tony could come up with an answer a booming voice interrupted him.

"Is there a problem here?"

Both men looked up to see Agent Gibbs walking towards them with the ever present cup of coffee in his right hand. His expression was carefully blank. Blue eyes darted from one man to the other before glaring at the onlookers. Most had already scrambled away, all too familiar with the unspoken rule that you didn't get in Gibbs' way when the man was pissed, and those that hadn't quickly followed now.

Tony's new 'friend' straightened immediately, and he was amused to see the nervous flicker in his eyes. 'Looks like someone hadn't expected the teacher to show up.'

"No Agent Gibbs. Everything's fine."

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, eyes never leaving the scene in front of him. Tony knew that his boss was contemplating whether he should call the obvious lie and was immensely relieved when Gibbs apparently decided not to. It was bad enough that Gibbs had to walk in on this, he didn't need the man to fight his battles for him as well.

"Then I suggest that you go back to work Agent Burg."

"Of course Agent Gibbs." Burg said but not before he sent Tony another dark look. A promise, Tony knew, that this wasn't over yet.

Tony answered with one of his trademark grins and watched Burg saunter over to his own desk. Gibbs emptied his cup and threw it away before fixing his new senior field agent with an unreadable look.

"So, nothing is wrong."

It wasn't a question, but Tony was pretty sure that he expected an answer anyway. He knew that Gibbs was hinting at their earlier conversation in the elevator, and he had to admit that it was impressive how persistent Gibbs could be. He wasn't the only one though.

"Absolutely Boss."

Gibbs looked ready to explode, and Tony was convinced that only the ringing of his phone rescued him from another _talk_ in the elevator.

_'Hah, maybe I have supernatural powers after all.'_

He was about to pick it up when Gibbs beat him to it, snatching the receiver before Tony could even move. Gibbs smirked when he saw the Italian pout and it took Tony's entire willpower to stop himself from sticking out his tongue.

The older agent listened to the other end with a few 'Hm's and 'Ok's thrown in before ending the call with a resolute "We'll take care of it, sir."

He grabbed his jacket, collected his gun and approached the elevator. Tony had jumped up with a stupid grin on his face and followed him seconds before he heard the next words.

"Come on DiNozzo. We got a case."

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Many eyes watched the two agents leave, but only one pair was clouded with darkness and disdain. The man that belonged to those eyes stared at the elevator long after the two had already left, unable to tear his eyes away from the steel doors. Bile rose in his throat when he remembered that happy grin on DiNozzo's face, and he had to clench his fists to keep from lashing out.

It wasn't fair. _He_ was supposed to be the one to follow Gibbs into that elevator, to have his back and get all the credit. Not that Italian bastard.

Since DiNozzo had arrived a week earlier, his hate for the man had built in his heart with every passing day. It had infected him, influenced his thoughts, and finally had molded him into a new creature that only sought one thing: revenge. Revenge for all the hardships he'd endured, revenge for everything he'd lost. For the bright future that was not to be and now never would be.

Spreading those nasty rumors had given him some relief, but instead of despairing under the animosity of all his new colleagues, the jerk had simply ignored it all. That damn Italian had kept smiling. He had even bantered with Gibbs and the older agent had bantered back. It was like they were friends or something. Just the thought of that made him sick to his stomach. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, and he could feel the hate crawling around in his thoughts like a second entity, whispering to him, telling him that he would need to take more drastic measures if he wanted to get rid of the man who had ruined his life.

Something more permanent.

A part of him still recoiled from the idea but that part was growing weaker every day. Soon his hate would gain the upper hand and destroy the last vestiges of morality and common sense he still possessed.

He would soon have to do something more drastic if he wanted the bastard out of his way for good.

A grin suddenly touched his lips and he could feel the hate inside him gaining ground.

He couldn't wait to get started.

TBC

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Oh noes, who is that nasty man?

I love Jimmy Palmer but sadly the time-line wouldn't allow it. I could bring him in anyway of course but I want to stick as close to canon as possible.

And YES dear readers, your eyes didn't deceive you, the plot FINALLY begins! *puh* Sorry to have bored you so long but we finally get to the good stuff.

Stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Nothings mine. This is for entertainment purpose only.

A/N: The next chapter. Here we finally get to know about the case. It was fun writing and I hope you'll have fun reading! Thank you all for your reviews. I love them all!

This chapter was again beta'd by the incredible AZGirl. Luv ya!

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 05

'It figures', Tony thought as he handed the distraught woman in front of him a tissue, 'that my first case with NCIS would involve a missing child.'

It seemed like it was always coming down to children with him and Gibbs. Sure, their killer in Baltimore had been anything, but a child but Tony was beginning to think that the deranged artist had been a freak accident in a universe where he was cursed to search for missing kids for as long as he lived. In Baltimore and Philly and everywhere else he'd been, he always seemed to get the cases that involved children. From time to time there had been the odd break-in and murder, but in the end it always came down to a missing or abused child. If he hadn't guarded his secret like the Holy Grail he would have thought that his superiors knew about his own experience with abuse.

And now, here he was again. His first case as an NCIS agent and he was searching for a missing teenager with Gibbs, who he'd met as a kid after witnessing the kidnapping of a little girl.

He could admit that it was kind of poetic – in a totally weird and creepy kind of way, but poetic nonetheless.

He watched Mrs. Gallagher blow her nose and belatedly averted his eyes. The poor woman probably wouldn't appreciate being stared at right now. Her make-up was smeared all over her face, and her eyes puffy and red from crying. The dark hair was in a disarray from repeatedly running her hand through the short locks as she paced up and down in front of them, before Gibbs had convinced her to sit down.

Instead of watching her, Tony let his eyes wander through the living room. His gaze brushed over pleasant curtains and a not so pleasant couch that had an ugly floral pattern. In the end it settled on Gibbs' blank face, which was _definitely_ not a pleasant sight at all.

Tony sighed. Gibbs had been in a bad mood since they'd left HQ - since he'd gotten that phone call from Morrow to be exact. On the way over, he'd simply explained the situation to his young partner and then retreated into a tense silence that had left Tony squirming in his seat.

Mrs. Gallagher blew her nose again, noisily, and Tony only saw the twitch of Gibbs' eyebrow because he'd been looking for it. The Italian could understand Gibbs' annoyance to a certain degree. The disappearance of a 15-year-old boy certainly wasn't a case for the best agent NCIS had to offer.

But, apparently it was when the mother was the wife of a recently deceased Marine who had also been a close friend of a certain director. The boy hadn't even been missing for more than 24 hours yet, so Tony suspected that Gallagher had called Morrow personally and that this was still an unofficial investigation.

More likely a favor than anything else, really.

Tony suspected that Morrow had given them this case as some kind of test, to see if this team would be as good as he hoped them to be. Or rather, that Tony would be as good as Gibbs had apparently promised. It irked him a little bit that his first case as an agent wasn't really a case at all since Morrow also thought that the boy had simply run away. But, if it annoyed Tony, then the Italian didn't want to imagine what Gibbs was feeling.

One could wonder why the man hadn't refused the 'case', but Tony wasn't surprised that the former Marine had accepted it. As much as he'd grumbled and scowled about it in the car, Gibbs would never have allowed anyone else to handle this situation for one very simple reason: a child was involved.

Maybe it was Tony's intimate knowledge of Gibbs' own family history that allowed him to draw that conclusion. But, whatever it was, as soon as a child was involved, no matter the age or gender, Gibbs was absolutely determined. The Italian wondered if Morrow also knew about Shannon and Kelly, but secretly doubted it. It was more likely that Morrow was only aware of Gibbs' obsession with protecting children and used that knowledge to his own advantage.

Either way, Gibbs had been played, manipulated even, and it didn't take a genius to know that Gibbs knew and that he wasn't too happy about it.

Mrs. Gallagher calmed down after a while so Gibbs tried to proceed with the interview where they'd had left off.

"When did you notice that Thomas was missing?" Gibbs' voice was soft and understanding, revealing nothing of his sour mood.

The woman in front of them blew her nose one last time and kneaded the tissue in her hands, staring at it as if contemplating whether or not she should hand it back – which Tony really hoped she wouldn't – before retelling the story. Her voice was raw from all the crying, barely rising above a whisper.

"This morning. I-I had made breakfast. His favorite. I called his name a few times but he wouldn't answer or come down so I went looking for him and-" she swallowed hard. "But his room was empty."

"And the window was open."

"Yeah." She nodded, staring at the door as if expecting her son to walk through. "I looked everywhere in the house and called his friends, but no one knows where he is. He's gone."

Her voice broke on the last word. Tony felt bad for asking but knew that there really wasn't much of a choice.

"Isn't it possible that he went out on his own? Have you tried calling his cell?" Thomas Gallagher was already 15 years old, after all. You did a lot of stupid things when you were 15, like climbing out of windows in the middle of the night to meet a girl. Tony spoke from experience.

She looked at him briefly before her eyes settled on a spot somewhere behind his shoulder. "His cell is in his room and he never leaves without it. Tommy didn't run away." Mrs. Gallagher spoke with conviction and faith, but something in her eyes just didn't seem right. The young agent couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't telling them everything.

Gibbs shifted in his seat, the cup of coffee Gallagher had offered him upon entering almost forgotten. Tony knew that his boss had noticed it too. He was just about to pry a bit more when a man entered the room.

He was a little bit younger than Mrs. Gallagher, and incredibly tall and muscular. His short blond hair was still wet from a shower, and his pinched expression and stiff posture told Tony that he wanted to be anywhere but here. The stranger must have been upstairs all the time, but to leave the house he had to go through the living room.

The man nodded in their direction and muttered a quick bye, but as soon as Mrs. Gallagher saw him she leapt from the couch and threw herself into his arms. He grimaced a bit but hugged her back just as fiercely.

Gibbs' eyebrows rose just the tiniest bit. "And you are?"

The man glanced at them and sighed resignedly. He pushed Mrs. Gallagher away and crossed his arms, frowning for a second when the woman immediately latched onto his biceps. She saw the look, gnawed at her lip and stared at the floor, yet she never loosened her grip.

"My name is George Shell." Shell's voice was a deep baritone. "I'm-" He glanced at the woman attached to his arm and she jumped right in.

"George is my fiancé. He asked me just yesterday." A shy smile touched her lips, but it quickly disappeared when she remembered her missing son. "I can't believe it was only yesterday. We were all so happy."

Her soft and desperate words were met with a derisive snort from her fiancé. The sound made her flinch, and Tony decided that he was really beginning to dislike the guy.

"You're kidding, right?" Shell asked. "Come on, Sally, tell the agents what really went down here yesterday."

"I don't know what-" she began, but he stopped her with a sharp wave of his hand.

"If you don't tell them, I will."

Fresh tears threatened to spill over, but the man who claimed to love her didn't seem to care. He just kept glaring at the woman, tapping his foot impatiently. This time it was Gibbs who handed Gallagher a tissue, and Tony was relieved to see that he didn't seem to be the only one who was less than impressed with Shell's behavior.

"Thanks." she whispered. "Tommy he, he wasn't exactly-" she shot another pleading glance towards her fiancé, but when she realized that there would be no help from that corner, she continued with a resigned groan. "He wasn't happy when we told him about the engagement. He-"

"He called me names and told me that I was ruining everything. When he was done screaming, he locked himself in his room and sulked like a little kid for the rest of the day. As far as I know, he was still there when we went to bed." Shell added. He looked disgusted at the memory. His fiancée averted her eyes, and her face went beet-red. "If you ask me, I'd say he simply ran away. He probably thinks that we'll blow the wedding off just because he's acting like a spoiled brat."

Tony was taken aback by the way this man was talking about his future step son. But he was even more shocked when Mrs. Gallagher didn't come to Tommy's defense. Instead, she stared at a distant point and distractedly nodded her head as if she was hearing Shell's condescending words for the umpteenth time.

"You two didn't like each other very much, did you?" Tony asked, sharper than he'd intended. He felt Gibbs cold blue eyes on him, but if Shell noticed the animosity in his voice he didn't show it.

"He hates me." Shell deadpanned as if that was all there was to say. And suddenly his scowl faded and his face grew soft, introspective. And, although Tony tried to ignore that, also a little bit sad. "It's no wonder, really. I'll be the man who'll take his father's place. Of course he hates me."

Tony suddenly realized that this couldn't be easy on the man either, especially if he really wanted Tommy to like him. His step-mothers had never cared all that much about him. There had been the odd one or two who'd still had enough heart left in their oversized breasts to pity him, but they had been few and far between. Maybe, if his father had loved him, they too would have tried to gain his trust to get to the man through him. But then Tony would have resented them for that even more than he did for ignoring him. Maybe Tommy felt the same, like a pawn only to be used and then thrown away. Maybe that's why the boy kept Shell at arms' length.

If that was the case, then that had to be difficult to endure when you were honestly interested in the welfare of the boy. And maybe Shell was honestly interested but just frustrated by the brick wall that he had encountered when trying to get along with Tommy.

Just as he was about to reconsider his first impression of the man, Shell looked at his watch and more or less ripped his arm out of Mrs. Gallagher's grip.

"It's late. I really have to go."

"You're leaving? But-"

"I need this job. I'm not gonna risk it because some kid decided to play Indiana Jones and climb out of the second story window."

He kissed her briefly, nodded to the agents and left as quickly as he had come. While Tony could appreciate the movie reference, he really couldn't decide whether to rip this man a new one or give him the benefit of the doubt.

Mrs. Gallagher stared after him longingly until Gibbs cleared his throat. "So you and your son had a fight last night?"

She jerked as if he'd just emptied a bucket of ice cold water over her head and whirled around to face them, fixing them with an angry glare. It was the most animated they'd seen her since entering her home.

"I know what you're thinking!" she hissed. When Gibbs just looked at her calmly, all righteous anger seemed to leave her. She wobbled back to the couch and slumped into the cushions like a lifeless doll. "Tommy is a good boy. He wouldn't do that to me. Besides-"

"Besides?" Tony prompted, when she didn't continue on her own.

"Besides, I think he might be in trouble." she said and stared into space. In her mind's eye she saw it all again. Saw how she came home from work, walked into the bathroom and witnessed something that shook her to the core.

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"_What is that?" Sally Gallagher screeched. She had just returned home from a tiring day to find her son in the bathroom, tending to a gruesome looking black eye. "What happened?"_

_Tommy looked just like his father had especially with his boyish face and deep brown hair falling into his eyes. At the sound of her voice, her boy whirled around, the wet washcloth still hovering over his damaged eye. He looked surprised for all of two seconds before his mask of indifference __slipped back into place. She had seen that face a lot since he'd entered puberty and she was beginning to hate it._

"_What does it look like?" he asked, aloof and arrogant and so unlike the Tommy she'd known his whole life. Puberty had hit her son hard, changing him into someone that made Sally's heart break every time he belittled her or sneered at her. His father would have straightened him out, but that was the problem; William wasn't there anymore to get Tommy back on track. The boy missed his father dearly and Sally knew her new boyfriend didn't help the situation either._

_That's why she'd given him some leeway,_ _but his stubbornness and his attitude were starting to grate on her nerves. She was a mother and she loved her son, but even she had her limits._

_She grabbed his arm and spun him back around when he moved to turn back to the mirror over the sink. Before he could react, Sally grasped the wet cloth and pressed it more firmly to his eye. He hissed and she felt bad for causing him pain, but decided to stay firm. Just this once._

"_Don't talk to me like that. I'm still your mother." she said and was happy to see his eyes widen in surprise._

_Or maybe it was anger, she couldn't tell with her son anymore._

"_And I'm not a little kid anymore." he sneered but didn't move away from her hands. "It's just a black eye. What are you doing here without your shadow, anyway?"_

_Sally felt a pang of hurt. Tommy didn't like George and felt no qualms about voicing his dislike every chance he got. It hurt, seeing her son and the man she'd come to love glare at each other over the dining table. She longed to have a family again,_ _but her son seemed equally determined to prevent that._

"_Why can't you at least try to get along with him? I loved your father too but-"_

_This time, Tommy did push her hands away. He would've probably denied it, but Sally could clearly see the sheen of tears in his eyes. On the one hand, she was elated to see an emotion other than annoyance on his face but at the same time she hated herself for causing her son pain._

"_You loved him? If you'd really loved him,_ _you wouldn't have brought that bastard into our house only six months after Dad died."_

_That stung. More than she wanted to admit. Tommy had the cruel gift of being able to sense the things that ashamed you the most and then throw them right back into your face._

_She thanked God once more that Tommy didn't know that she and George had met each other when his father was still alive. William had been a good man and she'd really loved him, but they'd been young and the marriage had been rash and ill-considered. Their passion had dissipated until it was only a pleasant memory. After a time, they'd realized that they loved each other as good friends than as a wife and husband._

_William had had some affairs himself before Sally met George. There had been no hard feelings since both of them knew that they were seeing others. They had still cared about each other, but only stayed married because of their son._

_But Tommy didn't need to know that. Ever._

"_You still haven't told me what happened to your eye." she whispered._

_Her son stared at her with a mix of pity and hate and she knew that she was losing his respect. A good mother wouldn't have accepted such an attitude. A good mother would have reprimanded him, punished him and shown him that she was still his mother. But Sally Gallagher was too frozen with guilt to feel anger. She wanted to stay firm and start being his mother again. But every time she tried, he would say something that reminded her of her blame, of the lie that stood between them, and her new determination would wrinkle and die and retreat back into the corner of her mind where it had come from._

_George was telling her that she had to be the boss again – that Tommy was the child and she the adult - not the other way around. Sometimes she told him that he was right but sometimes she just got really angry. George had no idea how hard it was to lie to your own child and yourself every second of the day._

_For a moment it looked like Tommy wouldn't answer,_ _but then he looked away and Sally thought she could see something like shame and apprehension wash over his face._

"_It's nothing." he mumbled and walked around her to leave the room. "Nothing I can't handle."_

"_But-" she began, but he was already gone. Sally stared after him until she heard a door close, followed shortly by the loud awful music he liked to listen to. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get him to talk about it, but she also knew that he wasn't telling her the truth. He hadn't looked like he could handle this - whatever it was._

_Sally Gallagher stood in the bathroom of her own home and tried to decide whether she should break down crying, wondering when everything had started to go wrong, or march to her son's room and finally start to make things right again._

_In the end she didn't do either._

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They had left the weeping woman alone after that. Gallagher had constantly sobbed as she'd told them about Tommy's behavior, her crumbling marriage, and the scene in the bathroom. After a few additional questions, she'd finally reached her limit and asked them to leave her alone for a few moments.

Gibbs had readily agreed. Crying women made him uncomfortable, and by the relieved sigh coming from Tony he knew the Italian felt the same. They decided to use the opportunity to take a look at the boy's room.

Gibbs smirked at the sight of clothes spread all over the floor and old dishes stacked everywhere. It was the room of a typical 15 year old.

"How are we supposed to find anything in here? I can't decide whether there was a fight or if the boy is just a slob."

Gibbs turned around to tell Tony to stop joking around when he saw the honest confusion on his partner's face. His amusement faded when he realized that Tony probably really didn't know that this was absolutely normal for the room of a teenager. Gibbs couldn't imagine DiNozzo Sr. tolerating a messy room, no matter who it belonged to.

The man shook his head. He couldn't risk thinking about Tony's father now or he might lose it.

"Take a look at the window and take prints if you find some. I'll take some pictures."

Tony nodded and got to work immediately. After a few minutes in companionable silence, Tony made a little sound in the back of his throat before holding up an evidence bag.

"I found some hairs. They must have gotten entangled on a splinter. They're either from Thomas or someone climbed in here and somehow got him out through the window."

Gibbs came to stand beside him and looked at the window. It was big enough to allow even a grown man to climb through, but they were on the second floor. It didn't seem very likely.

"I don't think so." he said. He thought for a moment and then asked, "What do you think happened."

Tony's eyes flickered to him before he concentrated on the finger print he had found on the windowsill.

"Everything points to the conclusion that Thomas ran away. I mean, the argument with his mother just yesterday and the tension between them since his father had died and everything. It's all pretty straightforward, but-" he paused, dusting the print. "But something bothers me about this."

Gibbs leaned against the wall, watching his partner work. "What does?"

"I don't know." he hesitated before adding. "I don't like Shell. His whole attitude. It rubbed me the wrong way, I guess."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. He hadn't missed the dark looks Tony had shot the man, but while the guy had acted like a conceited dolt, Gibbs hadn't really noticed anything menacing about him.

"Is it your gut that tells you this?"

The older agent trusted DiNozzo's instincts, but he couldn't help thinking about the last time Tony had followed them blindly - right into that dark alley with Leo. His doubts must have shown in his voice, because Tony stiffened ever so slightly and looked at him with something in his eyes that Gibbs couldn't quite name but that definitely didn't mean anything good.

"Yes."

Tony's answer was low and hard like steel. Gibbs didn't miss the wall going back up behind those eyes and cursed himself for not hiding his doubts a bit better.

They went back to work, not speaking another word.

TBC

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Oh boys, why are you making this so difficult? Just go with the flow.

The flashback scene was hard. I rewrote the thing a lot to make it realistic and emotional and all that stuff. :) I'm really fond of it, so tell me what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Well, not nothing, but you know what I mean...

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews. I loved them all. And I couldn't help but notice that you are already hating Shell and despise Thommys mother... man, I can't wait to see your reactions over the next chapters... *muahahahaha*

Beta'd by AZGirl. Love you, thanks for a great job!

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 06

Abby Scuito had a gift.

It was nothing extraordinary, like seeing dead people – and gosh, she really had to watch that movie with Tony sometime – but it was rather useful and she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. In fact she was convinced that it had saved her life more than once.

Okay, so maybe that was a little bit over the top, but nonetheless, she couldn't imagine living without her unique gift. It made her life so much easier and it was always fun to amaze others with her ability.

Sadly, there was no one there to admire it now. She was alone in her lab and typing on her keyboard, finishing a boring report – because really, not even she could make comparing blood samples all day sound interesting – when a shiver ran down her spine. Abby smirked and didn't even bother looking up as she held her hand out.

"No use hiding. My spidey-senses are tingling, Bossman."

Seconds later she was rewarded with a Caff-Pow slapped into her outstretched hand. She grinned before taking a sip. There was nothing that lifted her spirits higher than the caffeine filled ambrosia that slid down her throat.

Her spirits tumbled down, however, when she got a look at the grumpy boss who'd moved into her line of sight. Gibbs stood by her desk with his arms crossed and leaning against the piece of furniture. The ever present cup of coffee was dangling from his fingertips. He appeared casual and relaxed and anyone else might have thought that there was nothing wrong.

But Abby wasn't anyone.

She couldn't help but notice the tense shoulders, the pinched expression on his face or how he was tapping his foot in such a way that it was almost negligible. Gibbs usually only moved when it was strictly necessary. There had been times when he'd stood behind Abby's desk and listened to her describing her findings for what seemed like forever without even moving a muscle. The fact that his foot was moving and the way he idly let the cup swing from one side to the other, filling the otherwise silent room with the sound of sloshing coffee, could only mean that he was agitated or maybe even worried.

It was a side of Gibbs that the lab rat had seen a lot more often for the past couple of days. It elated Abby that he was finally showing a bit of emotion but, at the same time, she was annoyed that she didn't know exactly what was bothering him. She had her suspicions, of course, but thought that it was finally time to get to the bottom of things and verify whether or not her assumptions were correct. Despite her love for the dark side, Abby hated to be left in the dark when it came to her little family.

Dealing with Gibbs had taught her to be careful, though. You couldn't just corner him and demand answers - at least not at first. You had to give him the chance to come to you himself and only then could you grill him for all the juicy facts. Unfortunately, Gibbs never came to you by himself since it went against everything that made him so... Gibbsish.

So in the end it always boiled down to cornering him anyway and hoping that he didn't rip your head off. In fact, only Ducky had ever been able to pull that off, but Abby wasn't really concerned. Gibbs loved her, and she was way too cute to attract his wrath.

She hoped.

"So," she said, "what brings you into my Bat-cave?"

A smile tugged at Gibbs' lips and Inner-Abby patted herself on the back. The more amusing he found her, the less likely it would be that he'd blow up on her when she took the gloves off.

"Spidey-senses? Bat-cave?" he asked, his voice the quiet rumble that Abby loved so much, that reminded her of home and safety.

The Goth smiled sheepishly. "Oh, I chatted with that cute comic geek again. Guess he kinda rubbed off on me."

Gibbs looked vaguely curious but apparently decided to let it go. Instead he placed several evidence bags on Abby's desk and she immediately latched onto them. One contained brown, short hairs and a finger print. The other had hairs of the same color and length but they were still attached to a hairbrush. Her excitement wavered a bit.

"Let me guess," she drawled with the air of a kicked puppy. "You want me to find out if the hair is the same as in the hairbrush."

Gibbs smirked and downed the rest of his coffee. It was amazing how he always had a cup, no matter where he was. When she'd still been a newbie, that trait of her boss had fascinated her immensely. She'd wondered if he had secret stashes everywhere in the building like an addict. Thankfully, even back then when she hadn't known him as well as she did now, her instincts had warned her that it would be a poor idea to voice that thought.

Especially since she had never again heard of the agent who hadn't been smart enough to listen to his survival instinct.

"That's why you're the best, Abs." he said, but the girl was anything but flattered.

"Comparing samples is so boring. Especially hair." She pouted for all she was worth but if there was anyone able to resist the Abby-pout, it was Gibbs.

The agent merely winked at her and turned around to leave. The Goth couldn't allow that. She still hadn't discovered what was going on between Gibbs and a certain hazel eyed senior field agent and she was determined to put an end to it.

Whirling her chair around, Abby blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Where is my hot mini-agent?"

True to form, Gibbs stopped and turned around to fix her with one of his stares. She could practically taste his suspicion on her tongue and berated herself. He'd always been very good at seeing through people and she was a terrible liar. A bad, bad combination.

"He's upstairs."

"Ah." Abby said and tried to sound not as much out of her depth as she felt. "I see. Well how is it going? With the two of you?"

Gibbs waited another second, his eyes narrowing further. "Fine."

"You're an endless wellspring full of conversation, aren't you Bossman?"

Abby chuckled a little uneasily at her own wit, but Gibbs didn't seem impressed. He stepped further into her lab until he was leaning against her desk again. Something about the way he held himself told her that he didn't plan on leaving so soon. His eyes never left hers and Abby was beginning to doubt that it was really a good idea to confront him in an in an enclosed room – without witnesses.

"What's this about?"

"Whatever do you mean? Can't a girl ask about her two favorite, gun-waving boys without there being a reason?"

Gibbs towered over her now but Abby refused to be intimidated. Deep down she knew that he was just a big ol' teddy bear. With unmoving dark eyes and claws and teeth that could rip your arms off...

Abby shook her head. Nope, not intimidated at all.

Gibbs growled now – '_Thanks for the mental image, Boss'_ Abby thought – and used his voice that he usually only used for suspects. "So you want to talk?" A quick nod. "About DiNozzo?" A not so quick nod. It wasn't like she _only_ wanted to talk about Tony. "With no reason, whatsoever?"

Abby averted her eyes but snapped them back to him almost immediately. Those icy blues that pierced through her wouldn't defeat her. Like everyone else Abby found it fascinating how fast Gibbs could make you fold with only his eyes, but she refused to be one of them. She was the dark princess after all. She could be just as stubborn.

"Why would you think that there has to be a reason?"

"When I wanted to know what you and Tony were whispering about all the time you weren't so willing to talk."

Abby winced. She remembered that day. Gibbs had come to her and asked her about the Italian with more subtlety than she would have given him credit for. Nonetheless, she hadn't told him anything. Anything her new friend told her was in confidence and she honored that.

Although it wasn't like Tony had really told her anything...

"I explained that. The members of the Gibbs-squad have to stick together."

"If it's my squad, shouldn't you report to me and tell me everything you know?"

Abby pursed her lips, a little annoyed how he always managed to twist her words. "That's not how the Gibbs-squad works." She muttered and even lower. "And you probably know more than I do anyway."

Seconds later she remembered that her boss had the ears of a bat (and had the situation not been so desperate, she might have made another quip about the Bat-cave) and that there was no way he could have missed her comment. There was still the tiny possibility that he'd suffered sudden hearing loss for a few seconds. but a shy glance at his face told her that that wasn't the case. He'd heard everything she'd said.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed into slits and he leaned closer, like a hunter stalking his prey. He had picked up the scent and Abby knew that there was no way out of this but to spill the beans. Who would have thought that it would be her who would be cornered and not the other way around.

Although she really should have expected this.

"What _do_ you know?"

Abby fingered the evidence bags on her desk and avoided looking at the man in front of her. She feared that he might see the sheen of tears in her eyes. But even more so, she was afraid that he would realize that they weren't tears of sadness, but of anger. The Goth was proud of her ability to see something good in everyone, despite the gruesome stuff she had to face every day at work.

But she saw nothing good in _that_ man and she didn't want to. She hadn't thought that she was capable of despising a human being as much as she did _him_, but she apparently was. Didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

"Enough to want to use my most vicious voodoo dolls on a certain Papa DiNozzo."

Unfortunately the attempt at a joke didn't help ease her guilt. She hadn't exactly betrayed Tony's trust since there was no way Gibbs didn't already know, but it certainly felt that way. Her only hope was that Tony would never find out.

A horrible idea popped into her mind and she snapped her head towards the doors that led to her lab. In movies this was exactly the kind of moment where the person that was being talked about would stand in the doorway, listening with a pained expression on their face before running away.

The doorway was empty though, and Abby released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She felt kind of silly now. Life wasn't a movie - thank God.

But now that she wasn't staring at the desk anymore, she saw the expression on Gibbs' face. The veiled hurt she saw there surprised her more than it should have.

"He told you?"

"No he didn't. But I'm neither stupid nor blind. The signs were obvious."

Gibbs merely nodded and his tense shoulders relaxed a bit. Abby might have found that cute, if the topic of their discussion hadn't been so depressing.

The word 'abuse' never fell and Abby knew that it probably never would. Saying it out loud would only make it more real, more horrible and sad and unbelievable than it already was. The Goth would never understand how anyone could hurt a child, much less their own. While she had a natural curiosity that urged her to want to understand everything, this was knowledge she could live without.

"So, he never told you about... his past."

It wasn't a question but Abby felt compelled to snort and answer anyway. "Hell no! When it comes to Tony and feelings he's real defensive. And I'm not talking about the regular Tony-defensive. I'm talking about watchdogs patrolling behind an electric fence kind of defensive."

Abby vividly remembered the day she'd tried to talk to her favorite Italian about his past. She hadn't even said anything yet, but her face or something about the way she spoke, must have alarmed him because she could practically see the walls coming up around him, shutting her out. For a moment she'd considered confronting him anyway, but they hadn't really known each other that long. Although she already felt greatly attached to him, she knew that it wasn't her place to force him to bare his soul – yet.

Gibbs on the other hand; Gibbs had known him a lot longer than she did and there was something about the man that made it almost impossible to resist him when he wanted something from you. Some found that scary, but Abby knew that it was absolutely essential when it came to dealing with suspects or victims.

Or young agents that desperately needed some fatherly TLC but were too stubborn to admit it.

Gibbs sighed. There was a little bitter smile playing on his lips that made Abby's stomach churn. "Don't have to tell me that, Abs." the older agent said before turning around and leaving her alone.

His sudden departure left Abby feeling adrift. They had barely scratched the surface with those few words and she felt as if there was still so much left to talk about. So much to discuss and resolve that she was already halfway out of her seat to chase after him before she remembered the look on Gibbs' face.

The dark haired girl sank back down and took a deep breath. Maybe they would need to talk some more in the future but for today, this would be enough.

Because the answers, the way to make Tony open up and finally become a full member of their little family, lay in everything Gibbs _hadn't_ said.

Whistling the theme of Spider-Man, Abby turned back to her work.

Gibbs would take care of things.

He always did.

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Meanwhile, Anthony DiNozzo - who had no idea that there were at least two people in the building conspiring to break his walls down - stared into his locker with a carefully blank expression on his face.

When he'd entered the changing room five minutes earlier, the smell had been the first thing that had alerted him that something was wrong. The chemical scent had filled his nose and made it wrinkle in disgust. For a few seconds he had refused to even consider that it was coming from his locker. Surely the janitor had simply spilled a bit too much disinfectant, right?

When he'd stopped right in front of his locker and the smell became almost unbearable, he knew that denial was futile.

With a sense of foreboding, he opened his locker and almost lost his stomach contents at the sight and nauseating smell of its contents. It had been a good thing that he was alone or else he might have lost it. But as it was, he'd had all the time in the world to calm his rapidly beating heart. After taking a few deep breaths through his mouth, he pushed the irrational fear that had gripped him for a moment to the back of his mind.

Now as he stood in front of his locker, he saw the mess inside with the eyes of an investigator. Taking everything in, cataloging the leads he discovered - which weren't much - and wondering what sick bastard's attention he'd attracted this time.

Where the inside of his locker had been a steely blue just this morning, it was now blood red. The walls, the shelves, even the ceiling shimmered scarlet. Tony didn't have to reach his hand out to know that the fluid – whatever it may be – was still wet. Now and then a drop would fall to the ground where it would splatter with a noise that was almost undetectable through the sound of the blood rushing through his ears.

His personal belongings, like his keys and wallet, were floating in a little red puddle at the bottom, but that wasn't what had grabbed his attention. The detail that caught his eye first and foremost, was the sweater he'd deposited in there for emergencies.

Seeing it now, he knew that he would never use it again.

It was still on its hanger but that was all that was normal about it. The once-gray sweater had been torn to shreds and was now completely drenched in the same red fluid as the rest of its surroundings.

Tony's heartbeat had refused to slow until he'd realized that it wasn't blood he was staring at but just regular paint. He chided himself. The chemical and synthetic smell should have told him that immediately. He knew how blood smelled, after all.

But he was tired and still more than a little bit angry with Gibbs for not trusting in his gut feelings. His brain always worked a bit slower after a tiring day. When he'd entered the changing room to get his things, the only thought in his mind was of going home and spending the night with one of his beloved classic movies.

The Italian forced himself to avert his eyes from the thing that was once one of his favorite garments and shot a quick glance over his shoulder. With a sigh of relief, he noted that he was still alone and probably would be for the time being. They had come back pretty late and there were only a few agents left in the building. That should give him enough time to clean his locker and destroy the evidence.

Unlike when he'd found the letter this morning, the idea to tell anyone never even occurred to him. The detective in him knew that this wasn't a simple prank anymore. Breaking into his locker and destroying his sweater before dousing everything with red paint bore witness to a sick and angry mind. One that was willing to cross certain lines to ensure his suffering.

Had it happened to anyone else, Tony would have forced them to get some help immediately.

But it hadn't happened to anyone else, it had happened to _him_ and Anthony DiNozzo didn't need help with anything. He didn't need Abby worrying about him or Ducky scolding him for not coming to him sooner.

But most of all, he didn't need Gibbs' disappointed scowl or – even worse – his indifference. Deep down he knew that the man wouldn't be indifferent to his plight, but a bit of doubt still lingered. When he'd had problems at school, no one had cared and he'd always been left to figure things out on his own. That's how he'd grown up, that's how he'd learned to survive and, in all truth, Tony didn't see any reason to change that now. That way, he could only disappoint himself which was a whole lot easier to deal with than when someone you cared for did it"]].

"And let's not forget that Gibbs doesn't even trust me." Tony muttered to himself and couldn't help the small ironic smile that crossed his face. He still remembered the conversation they'd had in the elevator this morning and the way Gibbs had lamented the fact that Tony still didn't trust him.

'_Well,_' Tony thought as he grabbed the sweater, grimacing when his unprotected hands got covered in red paint._ 'guess that's mutual, huh boss?'_

He knew that he didn't have any reason to be suspicious of Shell other than the guy being a complete jerk. And he knew that Gibbs hadn't outright rejected his suspicions. But the doubt on his face and in his voice had been more than telling.

It shouldn't annoy him, but it did. He'd really hoped that Gibbs would be the kind of boss to take his insights seriously and to value his input. It seems like he'd been wrong.

Tony picked up his keys and carelessly put them into his pocket. It didn't matter anymore since his suit was already stained with little droplets of red paint. Fortunately, he'd had the presence of mind to take off his coat. This way he could use it later to hide the state of his clothes.

No, he wouldn't tell anyone about this. If he ignored it, the person would stop eventually. As Tony went in search of a supply closet for some rags or something to use to clean his locker, he absentmindedly wondered whether his new 'buddy' Burg had anything to do with this. He somehow couldn't imagine the gruff agent sneaking into the locker room with a bucket of paint, but he didn't know the man very well.

Burg could very well be the culprit, but Tony would rather bite his own tongue off before confronting him about it. That would only mean that his and the other agents' childish taunts were getting to him and he wouldn't allow that.

Now that the shock had worn off and the ripped-up sweater had disappeared into a trashcan, Tony was once more convinced that this was nothing more but a sick joke. He would sit this out and not do anything, least of all tell the others.

He couldn't have known that the bloodied sweater had been a fair warning and that ignoring it would not be one of his better ideas.

And as he patiently wiped up the sticky mess, he also didn't know that the next time his hands would be covered in red, it wouldn't be paint.

TBC

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Okay... I have to stop with the wannabe-cliffers. Feels like every chapter till now ended with one.

….

Awww but they are fun!

And yay for comic references...wonder who that comic geek could be...


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nothings mine.

A/N: Next chapter! I have to warn you that Gibbs may seem a bit OOC! There's a reason for that and I'll explain it soon but for now I ask you to bear with it and trust me.

Also, we've come to an end to the weekly updates! So sorry about that. I'm sure you'll understand, since it's probably no secret that me and my beta have RL to worry about besides fanfiction and then there is at least one other project I'm sporadically working on right now. **Update-day will still be friday**, but from now on it might take two to three weeks. I'll try to work fast but I don't want to rush things with this baby, which I'm sure you can understand (and maybe appreciate) as well.

Many thanks to my beta AZGirl. All remaining mistakes are my own.

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 07

As Anthony DiNozzo dragged himself to work the next morning, he had the uncanny feeling that it was going to be a very long day. He was so tired that it had seemed like a colossal effort to just get himself out of bed. If he hadn't been so certain that Gibbs would come get him – probably pulling him by his ears – he might have stayed home and gotten some more sleep.

Despite spending the rest of yesterday evening in front of the TV and relaxing with a cold bottle of beer, he'd slept poorly that night. While his body had craved the refreshing sleep, his mind wouldn't let him rest. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about that damn locker. By the time he'd gone to bed, his hands had still been smarting from the vicious scrubbing it had taken to get rid of the paint. It had been more annoying than painful, but the stinging sensation certainly hadn't helped him to forget about the unpleasant incident.

Tony had tossed and turned nearly all night in Jim's bed – which was so comfy, he was already regretting that he'd have to move out once his friend came back - because his mind was being plagued by the usual questions**:** Who would do something like that? How? And, more importantly, _why?_

With a building full of NCIS agents one would think that someone might have noticed a lunatic walking around with a bucket of red paint. If he had been slightly more paranoid, he might have considered that this had been a team effort, that maybe every agent in the bullpen was privy to his plight. Thankfully he was quite sensible and realistic when it came to mysteries.

This felt more like a one-man job anyway. It was probably the same person who'd spread those nasty rumors, whatever they may be. He still had yet to hear them for himself. Understandably, no one seemed particularly interested in sharing them with him. No real surprise there.

Tony hadn't even bothered trying to find out who'd started this whole mess by spreading lies about him. If he was right and almost everyone had heard them one way or another, then it would be nearly impossible to find the source now. And even if he did somehow manage to retrace the rumor to its source, then they could simply state that they'd heard it from someone else – someone they couldn't remember anymore - and he would have no way of proving otherwise.

Tony enjoyed a bit of good-natured gossip just like most people did, but this wasn't just harmless fun anymore. This had become personal the moment that budding avant-garde artist had invaded his personal space.

And if there was one thing Tony valued more than anything else, it was his privacy.

As he stepped out of the elevator and into the bullpen, the Italian was painfully aware of the hushed conversations all around him. He tried his hardest to ignore them. After all, it would have been downright crazy to assume that everyone was talking about him. Most of the agents were probably just chatting about their cases or plans for the weekend.

But the looks; he couldn't possibly ignore the looks! Tony was once again reminded of how much he hated to be stared at. Harsh words to his face he could manage without the blink of an eye. Even the painful experience of fists and kicks couldn't ruffle him as much. Those acts at least gave him the chance to _re_act.

But you couldn't do much about looksor eyes that bore into you from the other end of the room, at least not without looking like an overreacting jerk.

Despite his churning gut, he held his head high as he walked towards his desk. He would be damned if he'd let anyone get to him. As long as he showed them that their taunts didn't bother him and that he was still walking into the bullpen with pride, then everything would be okay. They would get bored with his lack of reaction and soon find another victim.

At least that's what he kept telling himself.

He tensed, however, when the distant sound of chuckling reached his ears. Even though he hadn't exchanged a lot words with the man, Tony would always recognize that voice.

He turned his head slightly and found Burg's visage among some of his friends a few feet away. The agent was watching him too and when their eyes met, his amused expression turned into an ugly snarl.

For a second, Tony thought the man would stick his tongue out or flip him the finger. The thought actually made his tense shoulders relax significantly and his lips split into a little grin. His situation was grim, to say the least, but the mental image of Burg, with his tongue out like a preteen, still managed to amuse him.

The other agent must have mistaken his honest amusement for content, because his expression darkened considerately, fists clenching at his side in impotent anger. Tony saw him taking a step forward and braced himself for another confrontation.

Before the situation could escalate however, a black blur shot out of the elevator and Abby Sciuto skipped towards Tony. Burg froze at the sight of her and backed down from whatever it was he was going to do next. When he turned back to his friends, pointedly ignoring Tony and the Goth, the Italian couldn't help but breathe a little easier. He wasn't afraid of the other agent and was more than ready to face him again if he had to, but he'd rather not start his day with an irrational outburst from a fellow colleague.

Abby finally reached his desk and immediately threw her arms around him. Tony didn't even stiffen anymore. A vast improvement if you asked him and Abby seemed to agree.

"Ah! Our good-morning hugs are getting better and better, aren't they?"

Tony thought so too, but that didn't mean that he would admit it. "If you think so." he answered instead, gently pushing her away when he started to suffer from a lack of oxygen. "Why are you up here? Isn't it a bit early for lunch?"

"The incredible Gibbs brought me some hair samples last night and I just-" She stopped so suddenly that Tony almost missed the utter look of confusion that washed over her face. Her gaze wandered through the bullpen, eyebrows narrowing when she saw some of the other agents quickly averting their eyes. Tony hoped that she wouldn't notice that they were being watched, and that he'd simply imagined the lull in the conversations around them. Either of the two possibilities would have been better than Abby's suspicion now.

She leaned closer, he intense gaze now fixed on him. He had the urge to fidget under that gaze and barely managed to stay still. "What's going on?" The Goth whispered. Her voice was hard and uncompromising, but the warmth and concern in her eyes told Tony that her anger wasn't directed at him. If he knew Abby at all, she probably didn't even know who she was angry with either.

Nevertheless, her question only confirmed what he'd already known all along; Abby had no idea about the rumors. Tony would have been highly surprised if she had. The lab rat wasn't the kind of woman to keep something like this from her friend. And even if she did, then it would have been only because she wanted to deal with the problem herself. In case of the latter, it was probably better that she didn't know – he didn't even want to imagine a vengeful Abby. She would be like a dark angel, leaving her victims with no choice but to face her or run for their lifes[[lives]]...

Tony shivered. No, it was definitely better that she didn't know what was going on.

Tony was confident that Gibbs had not heard anything yet, because going to Gibbs with that kind of gossip would be tantamount to committing suicide. Tony wasn't really sure, but he guessed that the older agent wouldn't take kindly to anyone badmouthing a member of his team.

No, Gibbs wouldn't learn about this unless Tony told him, and he would rather rip out his own tongue than do so.

And he wouldn't tell Abby either. Although he liked her, he also knew that she wouldn't be able to keep this from her beloved Bossman. He chuckled inwardly. Her head would probably explode with the strain of keeping it all quiet. He couldn't do that to her now, could he?

"Don't know what you mean Abs." Tony drawled, occupying himself with a file on his desk so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. "What was that about the samples?"

Out of the corners of his eyes he could see Abby gnawing her lip. She was obviously doubtful of whether or not she should really let the topic drop. Thankfully, Gibbs chose that moment to join them.

Tony and Abby both jumped when the man suddenly appeared behind them, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Tony would die to know how he did that...

"You got those results Abby?"

"Yes, Bossman. Wasn't like it was anything difficult." Tony had to smile at the rebuke in her voice. Comparing hair samples was apparently beneath her. "They all belong to Tommy. I compared the DNA found in the roots of several hairs to that of the sample you collected from Mrs. Gallagher."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, and Tony sighed in disappointment. There was no doubt anymore; the hair they'd found on the windowsill belonged to Tommy. And, unfortunately that didn't really help them all that much. It only told them that the boy had probably left through the window but not whether he'd done it under his own volition.

Tony looked at his boss and saw the gears turning behind his eyes. "What do you think, Boss?"

Gibbs spared him a glance. There was a flash of something on his face, but it was too fast gone to be sure. "Fact is that we didn't find traces of anyone else on that window. There are no indications of a fight and the mother didn't hear anything that would indicate a struggle during the night as well. Everything points to Thomas leaving on his own."

Abby listened eagerly and nodded her head in approval. Tony mostly ignored her, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. "So, you really think he ran away?"

Gibbs hesitated for a second before he came to a decision. "Yes, I do. Assuming anything else would be baseless right now. He had a big fight with his mother on the evening he disappeared and like I said, there are no signs of a struggle or fight."

Tony could agree that that was all true, but something still didn't sit right with him. "What's with the black eye? He got that only a few days before he vanished, too. And what about the assurance of the mother that he would never run away like that?"

Gibbs' shrugged and crossed his arms. "Mothers have been known to be mistaken. They rarely know their kids as well as they claim to."

Tony didn't want to say it. He really, really didn't want to. But Gibbs' dismissal of foul play unnerved him, even though it was perfectly reasonable. But, he knew that if he didn't bring it up and Gibbs was wrong in the end, then he would never forgive himself for not opening his mouth right now.

So he did say it while knowing exactly that it would only mean trouble.

"And Shell?"

As predicted, Gibbs' eyebrows narrowed dangerously. Abby didn't watch the exchange eagerly anymore, but was now watching apprehensively.

"What about him?"

"Come on, Gibbs. Something about that guy stinks to high heaven."

"Just because he rubbed you the wrong way, doesn't mean he's kidnapped a child. The child of his fiancée no less."

"We can't rule it out either!"

"Okay, so where is your proof? Except for the smell, of course."

"So you won't even consider another possibility?"

"Sometimes the easiest solution is the right one DiNozzo. Even you should have learned that by now."

"Guys!"

Abby's whisper was like a gunshot in the following silence. The girl looked from one to the other with wide, shocked eyes. She was wringing her hands and bounced in place, although clearly not out of happiness. Only then did the two agents realize that their voices had grown louder and louder and that the voices of those around them had grown quieter and quieter until every agent in the room could hear them shout at each other.

Tony felt the blood rush to his head, especially when he saw how Gibbs clenched his teeth, his fingers twitching as if they wanted to break something. If Gibbs was even capable of experiencing something like embarrassment, this was probably what he'd look like.

The former Marine gave the listening crowd a meaningful glare and almost everyone resumed their work, trying to act as if they hadn't just witnessed a heated discussion between the greatest Bastard of NCIS and his new senior agent.

Tony stopped himself from taking a step back when his boss took a step closer. But when he leaned in towards the Italian and hissed into his ear, Tony couldn't help the minute flinch at the fury he heard in Gibbs' voice.

"Since you are so sure that Shell has something to do with this, why don't you stay here at your desk today and try to find out more about him."

With that he turned around and stormed out, leaving a stunned Abby and a humiliated Tony behind.

The former detective couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true could it? Gibbs hadn't just benched him because he had a different opinion, had he?

Abby moved as if to hug him, but decided against it. Tony was grateful for that. He didn't know if he could handle an Abby-hug right now. His skin felt too tight for his body and he feared that even the smallest contact might make it snap.

"Don't worry about it." she stammered. "Gibbs doesn't...well, he... Just...just don't worry about it, okay?"

Tony didn't answer, only nodded. After all, he wasn't _worried_. He chanced a glance to his right and immediately saw Burg grin in obvious spitefulness.

No, what he was feeling right now definitely wasn't worry.

TBC

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Short chapter. The next will be noticeably longer, promise. Remember that all OOCness will be explained and don't forget to leave me a word or two. I'd really appreaciate it.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine

A/N: First off: HAPPY NEW YEAR! MAY ALL YOUR WISHES AND DREAMS COME TRUE! A SUPER LONG CHAPTER FOR YOU!

I didn't like this chapter, but after the wonderful work of my Beta AZGirl I am much more fond of it. Thanks dear! Anyway, not much else to say, I have to go and cuddle my cat now, since she's so scared of all the noise, she's hiding under the table. Have a great night, everyone!

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 08

This was a bad idea.

Tony knew that it was; his body was practically tingling with the knowledge that he was making a big mistake. He wasn't the type to get nauseous under stress, but he had been feeling quite unwell since he'd made this decision. Even the chocolate bar Abby had brought to cheer him up had been left untouched. That in itself should have been enough of a clue, but Tony had been beyond caring right then.

The house seemed to tower over him as he walked towards it and his thoughts strayed towards his boss who, in his opinion, towered above all the other agents in knowledge and skill. When Gibbs found out about this – and he _would_ find out about this, because nothing gets past him - Tony had no doubt that he would be furious with the Italian. Tony was frankly quite apprehensive of the confrontation that was sure to follow later. While he still could, he should probably go back, but he was here now and going back would have felt too much like a defeat.

And defeat was not an option. At least not in this case.

Tony swiftly pressed the bell before he could change his mind and almost bruised his finger in the process.. While he waited for someone to open the door, he tried to convince himself that his decision to come here hadn't been irrational. That he'd had a good reason to be suspicious and angry, a good reason to disobey Gibbs' orders.

It didn't quite work.

He had spent most of the morning sulking – although he would never call it that – and trying to find out incriminating details about Shell's life. The result of his search had almost been as frustrating as the search itself: Tony had found nothing, and by nothing, he meant that there was _absolutely_ nothing that would indicate that there was something wrong with the man.

George Shell had grown up in Chicago with his mother. His father had left them shortly after George's birth and had died a few months later in a car accident. Shell and his mother had moved around a lot and he'd graduated high school with average grades. After that, the man had a few jobs here and there before settling on accountingand going into business for himself a few years back.

Shell was a truly ordinary, if not outright boring, man. Tony hadn't been able to find even the slightest hint of a dark secret in his past, much less any previous convictions. The only thing even remotely interesting that he'd found was a speeding ticket from two years ago which the guy had not fought and immediately paid off the fine.

Those findings, or the lack thereof, had left Tony baffled but determined to not give up before he found something a little bit more incriminating about the man he'd met the previous day. It wasn't that Tony desperately wanted to find something to prove Shell guilty. No matter how much he didn't like the man, if he was merely an innocent bystander then Tony would be the first to admit that he'd been wrong. But the fact that there was nothing about the man that was the least bit suspicious had confused him. His curiosity had been peaked and a curious Tony was a persistent Tony.

Although he preferred being in the field, chasing criminals through the streets and interrogating suspects, the Italian was really good at research, so it was only a matter of time before he found one of Shell's ex-girlfriends. Admittedly, it had taken a few phone calls and calling in a few favors, but soon enough he was calling a certain Ms. Ginger Harris to speak with her about her former lover.

It soon became apparent however, that his hopes to finally find something that would reinforce his suspicions about Shell were about to be crushed. The woman was chatty and had been happy to talk to him about 'Georgie' over the phone. Ginger had been generous in her praise of the man. According to her, Shell had been the perfect boyfriend. The only thing that had bothered her at all had been his inability to express his feelings and his occasional cold behavior when they were with others.

Tony remembered their meeting with Shell and his fianceé and began to wonder whether the man was completely different when they were alone. Maybe he merely felt uncomfortable with strangers and had an odd way showing it.

After all, Tony too had trouble showing his feelings most of the time. But instead of being cold and distant like Shell, Tony behaved overly friendly with everyone, even those that he barely knew. He gave them the feeling that they were already best friends, which discouraged them from looking too closely. If he seemingly wore his heart on his sleeve and they already thought they knew all there was to know about him, why would they assume that they had to get to know him better?

It was the perfect cover and now that he thought about it, Tony realized that what he and Shell didwasn't so different. While Tony pulled them forcibly in, Shell pushed them out. Essentially they were different sides of the same coin.

But that wasn't even the most interesting part of what Ginger had told him during their conversation. She'd told him something else that had perplexed Tony even more...

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"_Why did the two of you break up?" Tony asked. There was an awkward silence from the other end of the line and Tony feared that she wouldn't answer. "It's just, you speak so highly of him and I wondered..."_

"_No it's okay." Ginger interrupted him. Her voice was quieter now, not bubbly or excited at all. "There are not many things I regret in my life, Agent DiNozzo. I'm mostly happy with what I've done and where I am now, but mostly is the keyword here. I would be even happier if I hadn't let George walk away without a fight. It's not easy for a woman to admit, but it was him that left me, not the other way around."_

_Tony didn't say anything. The "Why" hung between them and didn't need to be spoken. After a few deep breaths Ginger continued on her own. There lay strength behind her words, but also a sense of deep regret. "George wanted a child. I didn't. At least not then. I felt that I was too young, wanted to live my life a little before settling down and having a family and children to care for. George tried to be patient but after a while he didn't feel like he could wait anymore." She sighed deeply and now there was only the regret and resignation left. "I guess he couldn't wait for me to grow up."_

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Tony had ended the call soon after. He'd needed time to process what he'd just heard.

Shell wanted kids? He would have never guessed that after witnessing the way he spoke about Tommy. It hadn't looked like he'd liked the kid a lot before his disappearance.

There was always the possibility that Shell wanted a kid of his own, and not one from another man. But maybe Tommy really had made things a lot more difficult for the man than Tony wanted to admit.

Of course that didn't mean that Shell couldn't still have had something to do with Thomas' disappearance. Maybe the boy had provoked the man until Shell had finally snapped. It wouldn't be the first time that a supposedly good father turned against his child.

The new information didn't clear the accountant of any possible wrongdoing, but it made Tony doubt his own feelings about the case. Nothing fit anymore and he had no idea what to think about the contradictions between his gut feeling and the facts.

Tony had wanted to tell Gibbs about the new information he'd gathered face to face, but the man hadn't come back and the longer Tony had waited, the more annoyed he had become. Not only didn't he have anything to do after he'd finished his research, but the looks the other agents kept shooting his way, either full of pity or amusement, had soon become too much. As a result, it hadn't taken him long to lose the last bit of patience he'd still possessed.

When he finally got fed up with waiting for the man, he'd taken his jacket and simply left, ignoring the incredulous stares that followed him out the door. No one had probably ever disobeyed a direct order of Gibbs' and Tony couldn't help but feel a little smug that he was apparently the first one to have the guts to do so.

Now, half an hour later, he found himself on Mrs. Gallagher's doorstep, wondering what he was going to say to the woman and whether the weight in his stomach didn't mean that he wasn't quite as brave as he'd like to believe when it came to Gibbs' ire.

Tony swiftly concentrated on his anger again. Gibbs had been wrong to bench him just because they'd had a difference in opinion on the matter. Just because Tony was new with NCIS, didn't mean that Gibbs had the right to treat him like some rookie fresh out of the police academy. Underneath all the anger that seethed in Tony, the young man was actually disappointed with the man for humiliating him in front of the other agents and Abby.

It was probably his fault anyway. Gibbs was known to be a Grade A bastard among the other agents, but somehow Tony had thought that it would be different between them. He had been wrong, obviously, and he should have known better than to assume that just because they had a history together Gibbs would treat himany differently.

He certainly wouldn't make that mistake again. From now on he would be a good little agent and keep their relationship strictly professional. Gibbs was the boss, Tony was the agent, and he would do as his boss told him.

Tony finally heard footsteps from within the house and laughed at his own hypocrisy.

_'Well, starting tomorrow.'_

Sally Gallagher opened the door and Tony felt bad when he saw the hopeful expression on her face crumble at the sight of him. "Detective DiNozzo." she greeted. Tony could tell that she was making an effort to sound welcoming. "I'm sorry. I just thought-" She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "Is there something new? Have you found-?"

"I'm afraid not, Ma'am. I just thought I'd take another look at Tommy's room to see if I can find something that we missed yesterday."

She narrowed her eyes, not suspicious yet, merely puzzled. "But Agent Gibbs just left an hour ago. He took a look too. Aren't you two working together on this?"

Tony felt incredibly stupid. Of course Gibbs had been here, he should have expected as much.

"Oh, we do. It's just that I followed another trail this morning but Gibbs called and asked me to take another look after he was done. You know how it is; sometimes a fresh pair of eyes will discover something new that the other missed."

She relaxed slightly and Tony praised himself for his acting skills. Sometimes having to tell lies your whole life does come in handy, after all.

"I see." she said and smiled at him. "Then please come in. You can look at his room all day if it helps you find my son." After closing the door behind him and asking him whether he would like something to drink – which he declined – Mrs. Gallagher left Tony to his own devices for which he was incredibly grateful. Just because he could lie to a grieving mother like a professional, didn't mean he enjoyed it.

A few minutes later, he stood in Tommy's room with no idea what he was actually looking for. When he'd come here, it had seemed like a good idea, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. It wasn't like the kidnappers, if there were any, would leave a note detailing their plans. And if Thomas ran away of his own free will, it was unlikely that he'd left one either or they'd have found it by now.

His eyes traveled across the room, taking in the things he hadn't noticed the last time he'd been here. Posters haphazardly pinned to the walls, a game console in the corner with various games scattered around it. Lots of clothes on the floor and on the bed. The mother obviously hadn't bothered to tidy her son's room, either because she was still clinging to the hope that he would come home any minute to do it himself, or because she couldn't find the strength to enter his room just yet.

When Tony had said that he couldn't decide whether there had been a fight or if the boy was just a slob, Gibbs had looked pretty sad for a second and the Italian still couldn't figure out why. Surely this wasn't normal, right? His room had never looked like this. His father would have skinned him alive if there had been even one thing out of place.

But then maybe this was normal and the only anomaly had been Tony's childhood. Either way he didn't want to think about it, so he banished the thought and set about searching the room for any kind of clue where Thomas could be.

Twenty minutes later and he hadn't found anything useful, but there had been some amusing discoveries. The best had been a crumpled love letter from a girl that apparently found Tommy just 'too cute for this world' and that he was obviously 'so much more mature than the other jerks around'. It had been hidden under a couple of books in his desk, apparently disregarded and forgotten. But Tony knew from his own experiences that a love letter that didn't mean anything to the receiver wandered into the trashcan, not into the desk where it could be brought out at any time. He briefly wondered what had become of the girl, but dismissed the thought. If he had any luck, he could ask Tommy himself soon.

But apart from love letters and school papers with bad grades that his mother wasn't meant to see, there had been nothing that could tell him where Thomas was.

He was about to leave when his eyes caught the bulletin board over the desk. He browsed through the different papers, flyers and photographs – mostly from his dad – until he found a colorful advertisement about a skateboard park, hidden behind a postcard from Japan from his father and a coupon from a burger joint. It was well worn and there were several notes on its backside, mostly numbers that were apparently times and dates. Tony couldn't remember seeing a skateboard anywhere and after another swift sweep of the room he still couldn't find one.

Tony felt the first tentative stirrings of hope and practically leapt down the stairs and into the kitchen where he found Mrs. Gallagher peeling herself an apple. The poor woman almost cut herself when the young agent barged into the room.

"Does your son skateboard, Mrs. Gallagher?"

"W-What?"

"Does your son skateboard? Or does he own a skateboard?"

Sally put the apple down and thought for a while. "Um, well, his father bought him a skateboard a few years back and he often leaves the house with it, so I guess yes, he does skateboard. Why?"

Tony contemplated telling her but he didn't want to get her hopes up before he knew if he was right. "Do you know where he keeps it?"

"In his closet."

"Always?"

"Yes. Why? What's wrong? Did you find something?" She clenched her hands above her heart as if in prayer and when she saw the big grin on the agent's face, her heart made a painful leap into her throat. She didn't notice the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, and wouldn't have known the importance of it if she had.

"No I didn't, but that's the point."

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It had taken him a while, but in the end Tony had been able to convince the distraught mother to stay home while he followed the lead he thought he'd stumbled upon. He'd explained to her that, if Tommy really was at that skateboard park, then it was more than likely that he'd run away on his own. His mother showing up might just cause him to run away again.

"We don't want to scare him away, do we?" he'd soothed and after lots of promises to call her immediately in case he found Tommy, Sally had finally agreed to stay behind. He could see that that admission was hard on her but as he left the house and saw her standing in the doorway, staring after him, he knew that he'd made the right decision. He hadn't told her that there was still a good chance he was wrong and that her son wasn't even near that park. And even if Tommy had been there, it didn't mean he was still there now.

In fact, Tony was pretty angry with himself for letting his idea slip and getting her hopes up in the first place. He should have pulled himself together and kept his mouth shut but he'd been too excited at finding this lead.

Now the former detective could only hope that he was on the right track and would really find the boy. Otherwise he would have to tell the mother that she wouldn't be embracing her son tonight after all. Not a prospect he was looking forward to in any case.

Tony took a deep breath and told himself to stay positive. It was just a hunch, admittedly, but he supposed that a hunch was better than nothing.

The first thing he'd done as he started his drive to the skateboard park had been to call Gibbs. Tony wasn't stupid. No matter how angry he was with his boss or how much he cringed when he thought about facing the older agent again, he couldn't keep this from him. They were still partners and if they didn't work together on this, nobody would.

Tony didn't know if he should consider himself fortunate or not when his call went straight to voice-mail. He hadn't tried again after that, planning to wait until he reached his destination.

But now that he had arrived, he was momentarily stunned by what he found. He'd never been the skateboarding type and still wasn't but even he could tell that this place had to be heaven for skaters of any kind. There were numerous half pipes in different sizes, objects that looked like giant cubes that probably served a specific purpose which eluded the young agent, and other elements where he couldn't even begin to imagine how they'd aid a skater.

It was all truly fascinating and it took Tony a while before he tore his eyes away and reached for his phone to call Gibbs and confess. He was about to dial the familiar number when a lonesome figure caught his eyes. School was still running at this time of the day, so the park was mostly deserted. Well, except for that boy who was doing his rounds on the biggest half pipe in the entire park. He wore a cap, t-shirt and khaki pants and Tony had to admire the way he expertly balanced on his board. Tony was, as already mentioned, no expert but what the kid was doing looked pretty difficult and occasionally dangerous. The object of his observations did a boardslide and for a brief second the cap didn't obscure his face.

Tony put the phone away, walked over to the pipe and simply watched for a few minutes. The boy must have noticed him but either he didn't care that he had an audience or he was used to others watching him. Tony waited until the boy took a break before he spoke. "Looking good kid."

A snort reached his ears. "This is nothing but it must certainly seem so to an old man like you."

Tony bristled a little – he wasn't _that_ old – but patiently waited as the little smartass climbed from the Deck, using a ladder on the side. When the boy stood on solid ground again, Tony strolled closer an amiable smile gracing his features.

"Just saying." Tony drawled, relaxing his shoulders and trying to appear casual. "Those moves must have taken a lot of practice, right Thomas?"

Thomas Gallagher's head shot up so fast that Tony feared that the kid would break his neck. The detective tensed, ready to go after the boy should he try to make a run for it. Tony was almost disappointed when the Gallagher boy simply stared at him, gaping like a fish. He took in the brown hair and the wide, green eyes and still couldn't believe how easy this had turned out to be.

He almost wanted to laugh when he remembered the way Gibbs and he had argued whether the boy was abducted or not, when all the while he'd been here, having fun and enjoying himself. He didn't laugh though, because he also had to acknowledge that he'd been wrong about Shell.

Thomas seemed to realize that he had to look like an idiot and the flabbergasted expression was swiftly replaced with a scowl. Tony could detect the shadow of apprehension and fear in those stormy eyes but that was to be expected. The boy had made quite a mess of things, after all.

"Who are you?"

Tony whipped his badge out and showed it to the nervous boy. "I'm Special Agent DiNozzo. You can call me Tony though."

Thomas nodded absentmindedly. "How did you find me?"

"I'm psychic." The expression on Thomas' face told Tony exactly what the boy was thinking about that. "Your mother will be happy to see you, you know."

The kid clenched his teeth so hard, Tony could hear them grinding against each other. "Is she worried?"

"Yes, very much. She's really scared that something bad happened to you."

"Good."

Tony was taken aback and more than a little confused. The smirk and the cruel words didn't match the deep seated sadness he could see in those green eyes.

This case was supposed to be over as soon as they found the kid but somehow Tony didn't think that it would be so simple after all. Something weird was going on here and he found himself more curious than ever as to why exactly Tommy had run away in the first place. Could he really hate his mother so much that he wanted to see her suffer at all costs?

The questions burned on his tongue, but he knew that they wouldn't get him anywhere right now. During his years on the force he'd had his fair share of troubled teenagers to deal with and he knew that Tommy wouldn't talk before he was ready. Sadly, that was a process Tony couldn't speed up. He'd just have to wait and hope that Tommy would confide in him sometime.

"Where did you sleep? You didn't spend the night here, did you?"

Thomas shrugged. "Course not. I slept at a friend's place."

"Your mother called all your friends."

"My mother doesn't know _all_ my friends."

Tony had to smile at that. He too remembered keeping a few of his acquaintances secret from his old man. In his father's opinion, anyone that didn't come from a wealthy or at least powerful family wasn't good enough to be friends with his son. An opinion that little Anthony hadn't shared at all.

"I guess you can tell her all about them when she grounds you for this stunt. Come on, pack your things, we've already wasted enough tax dollars searching for you. I'll take you home."

Thomas, who had been surprisingly docile until now, practically recoiled from Tony's outstretched hand, a strangled yell of "NO!" escaping his lips. Tony tensed again, but the boy didn't try to run away.

Tommy glared at the ground, his voice coated with emotions Tony couldn't name. "I don't want to go home."

"Why not?"

"I just don't!"

The Italian was at a loss. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It couldn't be helped. Of course he could drag the boy against his will to his mother, but then they might never get to know why he ran away in the first place. And what would stop him from running away again as soon as he was alone again?

No, they'd have to resolve this mess before they sent him home. Tony felt bad for the mother but he couldn't call her while Tommy was around, and he tried to convince himself that this course of action would only benefit her in the end.

"Okay, listen. I'm gonna take you to NCIS first. We can talk there okay? What you did wasn't the right way to solve any problems you might have with your mother and I'm afraid you'll have to face the consequences."

He waited for an answer but in vain. Thomas' eyes suddenly fixed on a spot behind him and before Tony could ask what was wrong or turn around, he heard a voice that sent shivers down his spine.

It seemed like the boy wasn't the only one in trouble now.

"Good to know. I hope you're ready for the consequences as well DiNozzo."

TBC

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Hope you liked it, let me know. Sorry, but I don't know when the next chapter is going to be up, may take a while. As it may be, I wish you a great beginning for 2011!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclamer: They don't belong to me... wouldn't that be neat?

A/N: I'm so sorry about the delay. I always say RL got in the way, but this time it didn't just get in the way, it ran me over repeatedly. Work is really stressing me out right now, or better yet, my jackass of a boss. My gandmother (the wife of the grandfather that died last year) died a few weeks ago (funeral is next week) after weeks and months of illness. She told my mother she didn't want to live anymore and three days later she'd dead. I guess you really should think before speaking. To top it all off, I'm pretty sick (fever, coughing and one hell of a headache) and was pretty much just sleeping the last couple of days.

In a nutshell: Life sucks.

I hope you'll forgive me the long wait. This chapter was beta'd by the wonderful AZGirl, who had a lot more work with this one than usual. Thanks again for your patience.

Last but not least, I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews and encouraging words. I'd be lost without you.

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 09

"This is lame. Change the station already."

"I've already changed it five times. Suck it up, kid."

"Well then change it a sixth time!"

Tony was tempted to turn around and glare at Thomas but considering that he was driving right now it probably wouldn't have been the best idea. Instead he stared into the rearview mirror and unceremoniously turned the radio off completely. From the backseat came an indignant huff but thankfully nothing else. Tony didn't mind children but right now he just wanted a few minutes of silence to calm himself down and get his thoughts in order.

When he'd turned around and seen Gibbs standing behind him, Tony's first thought had been that he was in for a world of trouble now. The older agent's eyes had been stormy, his mouth a thin, bloodless line, barely concealing his anger. Tony hadn't been able to hide his discomfort at the sight, but was only too aware of Tommy's curious eyes watching the two of them. So instead of cowering in fear, he'd greeted Gibbs with a warm, wide smile that had felt out of place on his face, and acted as if nothing was wrong. Gibbs eyebrows had twitched, but other than that there had been no outer reaction to his behavior. Until they'd gotten Tommy into the car at least...

"So, that grumpy old man is your boss?"

Despite everything else, Tony couldn't prevent a small smile. "Don't let him hear you say that."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Maybe you should be. He's a former Marine who probably knows a thousand ways of killing you with a paper clip."

Tommy looked put out for a second, before he schooled his expression. "Still not afraid. Not like you are."

Tony grunted and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Why should I be afraid of him? We're partners." The words felt ashen and wrong in his mouth, although he still tried to tell himself that that wasn't true.

"Really?"

Tony began to feel a small bout of nausea rise in his throat. It did nothing to improve his mood.

"Really!" he snapped, too loud, too harsh, but at least Tommy bit his lip and kept his mouth shut.

There was no reason for his anxiety or nervousness. No reason to feel dread when he stared at Gibbs' car driving in front of him. They were still partners and would be for the foreseeable future. There was no reason to worry at all.

But there was a small part of him that wasn't quite so sure, that couldn't help but remember the conversation he and Gibbs had after they'd told Tommy to wait in Tony's car.

That part whispered that they may be partners right now, but that that didn't necessarily mean they would still be at the end of the day.

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_Gibbs leaned against the hood of his car, silent as a statue, and just stared at him in complete silence. Tony endured the silence bravely and didn't avert his eyes or flinch when Gibbs raised his hand to scratch his face. Okay, so maybe he'd flinched a little bit, but he hadn't pleaded for mercy or anything. It was a start, wasn't it?_

_Gibbs of course hadn't missed his reaction and a dark cloud passed over his eyes for a second before it was gone again. In its wake there was nothing but a blankness that scared Tony almost more than any display of fury would have done. The older man didn't say a thing and Tony was unpleasantly reminded of a volcano, seconds before its eruption._

_After a few more seconds of tense silence, Tony was ready to beg for the explosion. He couldn't believe it, but he actually wanted the man to be angry with him. Anything had to be better than this…whatever this was._

"_H-How did you find us?" Tony asked lightly, deciding that he couldn't stand the silence any longer._

_For a while it didn't look like Gibbs was going to answer and when he did,_ _it was in a tone of voice that was completely devoid of emotion. "Found a number and address beneath his mattress. Drove there, asked around and found him here." The 'with you' didn't need to be spoken aloud to be heard._

_Tony wasn't an investigator for nothing and in the time he'd known Gibbs, he'd gotten pretty accustomed to translating "Gibbs-speak"._

"_Ah, so you found the other kid he'd bunked with last night."_

_Gibbs only nodded,_ _and Tony could only hope that his boss had been in a better mood when he'd interviewed Tommy's friend, otherwise the poor kid was probably scarred for life. But _at the time, _Gibbs hadn't known about Tony's disobedience, so the child was likely safe._

_Which was more than Tony could say about himself._

_The young Italian decided that it was probably a good idea to attempt some damage control._

"_Look, I know you said that I should stay in, but I just couldn't sit back and let you do all the work, could I? A man of your age shouldn't do all the legwork by himself." Tony cracked a smile at that, hoping to loosen Gibbs up a little, but his joke obviously hadn't worked because the man kept a straight face. "I know you are angry and I'm sorry,_ _but I found the boy. Shouldn't that count for something?"_

_When Gibbs answered,_ _his voice was calm and quiet which made the words he'd said next even harder to bear than any yelling his boss could've done._

"_I can't use someone on my team who isn't able to follow orders."_

_Gibbs turned his back on him, and Tony felt as if he'd just been sucker punched in the stomach. He opened his mouth a few times, in an effort to speak. He wanted to ask if this was it – if this meant that their partnership was over before it had really begun – but he couldn't. He wasn't as afraid of __the question as he was of the answer._

"_I'll drive ahead; you'll follow me with the kid." Gibbs looked over his shoulder and met Tony's eyes for only a second before turning away and walking to his own car._

"_By the way DiNozzo, never apologize. It's a sign of weakness."_

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Now that Tony had had time to think about it, he realized that it hadn't been the words that had shook him to his core. Gibbs hadn't screamed at him or reamed him out in front of the boy and anyone else who was curious enough to listen, which meant that his boss was more than just angry with him.

Tony stopped at a red light, right behind Gibbs' car. He could see Gibbs' graying hair and imagined that he could detect those wide shoulders tense. Almost as if the man was aware of being watched.

Tony sighed. No, Gibbs hadn't merely been angry with him.

He'd also been disappointed.

And that, Tony decided with a heavy heart, was even worse.

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Gibbs glanced into the rearview mirror as he stopped at the red light, his eyes immediately searching for his senior field agent. Tony's car stopped right behind him and he got the brief impression of brown hair and a pale face before he quickly averted his eyes. He was still angry, but also a little bit guilty for what he had said to the former detective just minutes earlier. He really couldn't use an agent who didn't follow orders, but it had been meant as a warning more than anything else. Gibbs usually didn't believe in second chances, but if he thought that the person was worth it he could be persuaded otherwise. It was only when he'd looked back and seen the shock, disbelief, and possibly defeat on Tony's face had he realized that his words could have been taken the wrong way, especially by someone with low self-esteem like Tony.

He hadn't apologized of course, and not just because it would have gone against his own rules. He was still angry with the younger man and guessed that it would do him some good to sweat a little.

He felt the first signs of a headache - a side-effect when he was angry. Shannon had always blamed his migraines on his 'Bruce Banner mentality'. He'd asked her who this Banner guy was, but his beautiful wife had just chuckled and told him that maybe, when she was a little older, his daughter would be able to tell him.

But Kelly hadn't been able to tell him anything anymore a few months later, because she'd been dead, just like his beloved Shannon.

Gibbs shook his head, not wanting to think about the greatest tragedy of his life on top of everything else right now. He could think about the past when he was in the basement with his boat. Now he had to worry about the present.

He was kind of glad that Tony had taken Tommy into his car because he seriously didn't think that he wanted to deal with that kid right now.

He had wanted to drive the boy home and only Tony's insistence and the panicked look on the boy's face had convinced him to take the kid to NCIS instead. Unlike DiNozzo though, he'd insisted on calling the mother immediately. It would be a cold day in hell before he'd let his disobedient agent and some bratty kid tell him what to do. Tommy cursed and refused to talk to his mother leaving Gibbs to try and calm the hysterical woman down over the phone.

Kelly hadn't reached puberty before she'd died, and in moments like these, the widower couldn't help but think; 'Thank God!' Wasn't Tommy aware how much he had hurt his own mother? Didn't he care? He would have liked to tell the boy how she must have felt, not knowing if her son was still alive. And, he would have liked to tell him just how much agony it was for a parent to lose a child. But that wasn't really his job. Besides, he doubted that the future delinquent would understand what he tried to tell him anyway.

Gibbs closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down after ending the call with the mother. When he'd opened his eyes again, he'd caught the look DiNozzo had shot him, full of understanding and compassion, as if the agent knew exactly what had been going through his mind.

Somehow, that had made Gibbs even angrier.

He had been more than cold towards his agent when Tony had tried to explain. The desolate expression on his face had almost convinced Gibbs to ease up a little, but he'd squashed that urge almost immediately.

DiNozzo had disobeyed a direct order, and Gibbs couldn't ignore that. If he told his agent to stay put and not leave his desk, then he expected him to do just that and nothing else.

'But why did you bench him in the first place?' That tiny little voice that sounded like Shannon when she was angry with him, asked. 'Why were you so harsh?'

Gibbs shook his head. He hadn't been harsh! He'd planned to let DiNozzo fume a bit before calling and telling him that he should meet him at the Gallagher house. But when he'd called, the signal had been busy and he hadn't bothered to try again before entering the house and searching Tommy's room a second time. And then he'd found his lead and simply forgotten to call Tony again, afraid that it would peter out if he didn't move immediately.

Gibbs wasn't the kind of person who bothered to look too deep into his own decisions. He didn't usually sit down at the end of the day and lead a discussion with himself about his choices or why he'd acted in a certain way or what his motives had been. If he thought something was right, he did it. If he thought something was wrong, he didn't. It was as simple as that. Most of the time he didn't even want to know why he did or think certain things the way he did.

But this time not even he was able to ignore or dismiss the reasoning behind his behavior in the bullpen or why he'd acted so rash. The very memory of his actions and how he'd basically overreacted were enough to make him punch the steering wheel in frustration.

He'd lost control and that was unacceptable. No matter how harried he'd been, he should have made sure to keep his emotions in check and not take his anger out on his agent. But he had done just that, and the reason for that was as unreasonable as it was pathetic.

Despite what Tony might think, the fact that Morrow had abused his power and urged Gibbs to take the case hadn't been what had turned Gibbs' mood sour for the rest of the day. Morrow was his boss, but he was also a friend and the agent knew that, if he really hadn't wanted this case, then Tom wouldn't have forced him. He would have given him his best mock disapproving glare, but that would have been the worst of it.

No, what had bothered him about this case had been its nature. He'd been with NCIS for many years and he could honestly claim that he was a skilled and seasoned investigator.

Experience had taught him that, no matter the circumstances, as soon as a missing child was involved every investigator at least once had to at least think about the possibility of abuse at one point. Cases where children were involved required a sense of tact and sensible instinct, something he wasn't sure Tony possessed, considering his own abusive past.

He'd never worked with someone who'd suffered abuse before, but Gibbs imagined that it couldn't be easy - at least not with a case like this. He'd kept a close eye on the former detective and when he'd seen Tony's instant animosity towards Shell, a man that may act like an ass, but seemed mostly harmless; he'd known that his worst expectations had come true.

Gibbs couldn't say that he was surprised. Old demons and memories and the tight hold they could have on you and your life weren't something he was a stranger to either. While Gibbs may have been able to lock them away most of the time, he didn't expect the same from Tony just yet. His agent was still young and despite his skills inexperienced in a lot of things. So he really couldn't blame Tony's lack of objectiveness about this case, not when the man had lived through the hell of an abusive parent himself.

But what Gibbs hadn't expected, what had surprised the hell out of him in fact, had been his own conflicting feelings.

Intellectually, he knew that the facts were quite clear. Tommy and his mother had had a big fight the night he'd disappeared. He'd just lost his father and hated his future stepfather. The boy was going through a difficult time right now and kids like that did stupid things, like running away in the middle of the night.

Of course Gibbs hadn't ignored Shell's behavior or the man's obvious disdain for the boy, but he also hadn't seen anything that would indicate that the guy had anything to do with the case. His gut had told him that Shell had nothing to do with the kid's disappearance and while his gut feeling wasn't an exact science, it had never betrayed him either.

But the moment Tony had voiced his suspicions about Shell, Gibbs had felt the control over his emotions slip through his fingers. No matter how clear the case appeared to be, no matter how much his instincts had rebelled against the idea, Gibbs hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he should put Shell through the mill, just to see what would happen. A completely insensible urge that had left the older man questioning himself more than he'd care to admit. He'd wanted to ignore the facts and go against his own gut feeling, something he'd never done before.

When Gibbs had realized that this case was affecting him more than it apparently did DiNozzo, he'd grown angry and confused.

He'd worked countless cases of missing and abused children. Why did this one give him such a hard time all of a sudden?

But then he'd realized what the difference was, what he knew now that he hadn't known then.

During all those cases, he hadn't known that he'd once left a child behind who'd needed his help. He hadn't known of his own failure to protect a boy that he'd actually cared about.

This case hadn't only touched on Tony's past, but it also reminded Gibbs of his own guilt. The older man had never really been able to overcome the belief that, had he paid a little bit more attention to the kid 15 years ago, then Tony wouldn't have had to suffer any more abuse than he'd already had. If he hadn't left the kid when he did, then maybe Tony wouldn't be such an emotional wreck now.

Despite Ducky's best efforts, the guilt was still there and this case apparently wasn't helping him get past it. Every time he looks at DiNozzo, he doesn't see the man, but his own failure in keeping the kid safe back then. Anxiety, and worst of all, self-doubt had grabbed hold of Gibbs when he thought about the case now and the one 15 years ago. The sense that he should be overly cautious now had been almost overwhelming. The idea that he might make the same mistake should he dismiss the possibility of abuse as he'd done with Tony had almost driven him crazy.

Thankfully he'd gotten a hold of his wayward emotions before he could do something stupid. He was an investigator, and as an investigator, he had to follow the leads first and foremost and the facts had drawn an indisputable picture. If he had ignored them, he wouldn't have done so to save Thomas, but to ease his own guilt over Tony and he couldn't allow that.

He'd once let his emotions get the better of him, and while he didn't regret the death of the monster that had destroyed his life, he certainly regretted what it made him feel about himself.

The constant push and pull within himself had stressed him out more than the actual case. And when he was stressed, he was unpleasant to be around, to say the least.

When Tony hadn't let up with his suspicions about Shell and tried to convince him that the man must have some skeletons in his closet, Gibbs had finally lost it. Upset and irritated all day, it was only when he'd already yelled at Tony and seen that desolate look in his eyes, that Gibbs realized that he may have overacted. But by then it had been too late to take back his words and he'd left without resolving things first.

Tony had purposefully and intentionally disobeyed his orders, and while Gibbs could understand the young man's anger, he couldn't simply let that slide. Gibbs knew the short talk they'd had in the skate park wouldn't be the end of it. They would have to have a longer talk soon, preferably one where Tony would finally open up about his past so that they could both finally put it behind them once and for all.

And just maybe he could finally leave his guilt behind.

Gibbs chanced another glance into the rearview mirror just in time to see Tony sigh and slump into his seat. It was the perfect picture of bone deep weariness and defeat.

And Gibbs wondered, with a heavy heart, whether it would really be that easy.

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Gibbs was already waiting for them when they pulled into the parking lot. He was standing with his back to them, but Tony could see that he was speaking with someone over the phone.

Tony put a hand on Tommy's shoulder and was relieved when the boy didn't shrug him off. After the debacle with the radio station, the drive had actually turned out to get quite entertaining. They'd talked a bit about sports and girls – something that had kept them both going for quite a while. The discovery that they had the same favorite movie had led to a lengthy discussion about the female main character and why she'd obviously chosen the wrong guy.

The banter had been lighthearted and had distracted Tony from his gloomy thoughts, something he was very grateful for.

They walked up to Gibbs and Tony was able to catch the last few words.

"-understand. We'll be there."

Tony felt ridiculously relieved when Gibbs had turned around and he'd seen that his boss' eyes weren't as unforgiving as they'd been in the park.

"His mother and Shell are waiting upstairs with Morrow." He turned to the kid who'd tensed at the mention of his mother and her fiancé. "Time to go home boy."

Tommy's face grew dark and he gritted his teeth. "I don't think so."

Tony tightened the grip he had on the thin shoulder, but instead of running away, Tommy drew closer to him as if he was seeking refugee with the younger agent.

"And why not? Your mother was worried."

There was that bitter laugh again, the one Tony had already heard in the park. The boy shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes darting from one end of the parking lot to the other, never resting on anything longer than a second. Tony couldn't help but notice that he was never meeting their eyes. The small face was riddled with emotions, every one of them too quick to decipher but none of them good. The Italian could feel the pounding heartbeat beneath his hand. It was way too fast.

"Why don't you want to go home?" he asked, as soothing as he was capable of. "Is it because of your mother's boyfriend?"

He more felt than saw the disapproving look his boss shot him, but couldn't be bothered to pay much attention to it. Tommy had frozen upon his words. He swallowed and Tony saw an expression of doubt before it was pushed away, replaced by cold determination.

The next words didn't just surprise Gibbs but Tony as well, even though they only reinforced what he'd suspected the whole time.

"He hits me."

TBC

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Oh my, so is Tony actually right? But Gibbs' famous gut feeling couldn't possibly be wrong, could it? But would Tommy lie about something like that just because he doesn't like the man? I wonder what the hell is going on...


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: They are not mine, nor will they ever be.

**A/N**: Hello everyone. Well what can I say. You are probably all ready to throw rotten fruit at me but these past few weeks were pretty harsh. The job, the school, the family - it all added up and made for a really difficult time that I have no desire to repeat. I felt out of the loop, not able to write (except for small bouts of creativity, but sadly not for this fandom) and when I finally felt like I could try again and wrote a bit, this thing in Japan happened and just like that the mood to write had vanished again. Not only am I a big fan of Japan and its culture, but a dear friend of mine lives there and after the earthquake she wouldn't reply to my mails for a while.

By now I know that she's fine but a lot of people aren't. Let's support them any way we can and hope and pray that they are strong enough to get through this. I just wonder when we'll ever learn to treat our earth better?

A big thank you goes to my friend and beta **AZGirl** who consoled me and listened when I wanted to rave and rant. Thank you very much dear, this chapter would have taken sooooooo much longer without your mails.

Without further ado, here's chapter 10! It may seem a bit disappointing after the long wait but the next chapter is filled with lovely angst, hurt/comfort and a suuuuuper evil cliffhanger. I know all that because a pretty big chunk is already written and I fully intent to finish it today or tomorrow. I'm sitting on my balcony in the sun right now, thinking about the next scene...

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The Days After the Day

Chapter 10

Tony was, to say the least, pretty annoyed by the time Gibbs got Mrs. Gallagher into interrogation room number 4. Shell was in the room just next door and Tony could see them both from his spot behind the mirrors thanks to the monitoring equipment that was linked to the other interrogation rooms. While the mother took her seat with a puzzled frown, questions about her son's whereabouts pouring out of her mouth the whole time, Shell stood right in front of the two-way mirror, fixing his tie and looking for all the world as if he had been invited to a fancy dinner party. Watching him, Tony felt his fingers itch to go over there and ask the man some hard questions. Maybe then the jerk wouldn't be so damned calm anymore.

The Italian clenched his fists and cursed under his breath.

Instead of going in there and doing his job, he was stuck out here, forced to wait and do nothing. He had wanted to interrogate Shell while Gibbs questioned Mrs. Gallagher but his boss had put that idea out of his head disgustingly fast.

_'I'll question both of them.'_ he'd said as he'd stashed Tony into the observation room. _'You be lucky that I even let you watch.'_

This was his punishment for disobeying Gibbs' orders. He knew that. It was his boss' way of showing him that he was the one making the decisions here and not his 'wet behind the ears' probie. Tony was no stranger to discipline and punishments, and if Gibbs thought that he needed to be punished because he'd followed his gut feeling, then he would have to accept that.

Didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

Tony had rarely felt so out of place, so useless. He was the kind of person that constantly needed to to be in motion. Just sitting around and doing nothing felt to him as unnatural as buying a suit off the rack; it just didn't happen! But here he was, out of the loop, watching Gibbs wrap up the case on his own and he couldn't help but childishly think that it was really unfair.

And something about the way Gibbs handled the case bothered him too. He knew that his boss believed the kid. Hell, he'd seen the fury flash in Gibbs' eyes as Tommy uttered those few, devastating words. Words that unveiled a story of abuse and sorrow. And, he hadn't missed the way Gibbs' eyes had grown dark when the kid had briefly told them how and when he'd gotten the black eye that was still faintly visible. When they'd asked him if something like that had happened before, the boy hadn't said a word, but the way he'd averted his eyes had been answer enough for Tony.

So while the two agents were finally on the same page concerning the case, Tony wondered why Gibbs didn't question Shell first. What did he expect from talking to the mother? Why not go for the culprit? Did he maybe suspect that the mother was in on this somehow, that she knew about the abuse or maybe even participated?

Somehow, Tony found that hard to believe. She may have been blind and misguided when it came to her lover and son, but he couldn't picture her as some kind of monster that enjoyed seeing her son hurt. The widow had been honestly worried sick about her son and it was obvious that she loved him. In Tony's eyes she was nothing but an innocent guest star in this drama.

So why did Gibbs question her first? Why not go for the star of the show?

"Where's Tommy? Didn't you say you would bring him here?" Mrs. Gallagher's voice brought Tony back from his thoughts and he decided that he'd better pay attention. Just because Gibbs had sent him to the side lines, it didn't mean that he could slack off.

The woman was twisting a tissue in her hands, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Tony could see her shifting on her seat and he could imagine just how badly she wanted to jump up and go to her son. He felt really bad for her, and hoped that Gibbs wouldn't draw this out too much.

The older agent took a seat in front of her and offered her a glass of water which she declined with a shake of her head. "He's here Mrs. Gallagher, and is currently with one of my men."

Tony snorted, imagining what Abby would say if she knew that Gibbs had called her one of his 'men'. She'd probably be delighted. His thoughts strayed to the Goth and Tommy, down in the lab. She was probably showing the kid the cool equipment down there, what they did and how each one worked. She'd done the same for him when he'd been new at NCIS and although he'd already known most of the stuff she'd told him, he'd pretended that he didn't just so he could watch her delighted face a bit longer. Abby really loved her job and letting others know of the magic that was comparing finger prints and extracting DNA from a tiny drop of spit.

The Italian had honestly enjoyed listening to her and he hoped that the kid would too. The boy had been way too closed off since he'd told them about the abuse. After his initial confession in the parking lot, his face had lost all expressions and his voice had become cold as ice. There'd been something calculating about the way he'd told them certain things, a glimmer of some unknown emotion in his eyes. Something about his behavior, the way he'd been so composed, had been eerie and had made Tony a bit uncomfortable.

He hadn't allowed himself to judge the kid, though. You couldn't tell how a child may react to an adult hurting and humiliating you. In his line of work Tony had seen kids who'd bawled their eyes out for hours and then others, who had been clinical and jaded, not letting a single emotion passed the walls they had built around themselves.

Tony himself had never allowed himself to appear weak in front of others. When school counselors or curious teachers had asked him about his home life, he'd reacted with laughter and sarcasm and later, if they still didn't believe him that everything was as it should be, with childish disbelief.

_'You really think my Daddy hurts me? But my Daddy would never hurt me! Why are you saying such a mean thing?'_

The hurt in his voice and the pout on his face had always been enough to get them off his back. It wasn't something he should have been proud of, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a bit smug that he'd managed to outwit adults. His teachers even, people that were trained to recognize the signs, and he'd fooled them all.

In the interrogation room Mrs. Gallagher made a move to stand up but paused when Gibbs raised his hand. "Why can't I see him then? What is going on Agent Gibbs?"

"There are a few things we need to talk about first."

The woman seemed to honestly have no idea what this could be about and Tony silently willed his boss to get to the point already.

"Wha-?"

"Your son told us something that we need to resolve first before we can let you see him, Mrs. Gallagher." He paused for a second, watching for a reaction from her. When nothing came, he clarified. "Something about your fiancé."

"George? What did he say about George?"

Gibbs leaned forward in his seat but softened his expression when he saw a flash of fear on her face and the way she leaned back from the table to get some distance between the two of them.

"That black eye that you told us about. Tommy claims that it was Shell that hit him. He says that your fiancé is abusing him."

After that, the room was shrouded in complete and utter silence. Tony unconsciously slowed his own breathing in order to be as still as possible. It was a ridiculous notion since they couldn't hear him anyway from where he was standing behind the mirror, but Tony found he didn't care. The sight before him was mesmerizing. A million different emotions played across Mrs. Gallagher's face while the rest of her body seemed to be frozen in time, not moving a muscle. Her lips were trembling and her tongue occasionally darted out to wet them as if she was a woman dying of thirst. Her eyes were open and closed sluggishly, and Tony was reminded of a person that was slowly coming out of a deep sleep, trying to blink the bad dreams away. The only thing was, that this wasn't a dream she could escape from simply by waking up.

She opened her mouth and Tony was convinced that she would demand to see her son, determined to make everything right again. But then he saw, almost hidden beneath all the ever-present sadness, anger and fear, an emotion that he hoped he was only imagining:

Disbelief.

"No...no that can't be true. You must have misunderstood. George would never- he wouldn't..."

"We didn't misunderstand anything, Mrs. Gallagher. Tommy told us that your fiancé hit him and that that's how he got the black eye."

"No, I... I don't believe it."

"But that's what your son told us."

Tony was impressed by how calm Gibbs still was when he was barely managing to keep his emotions in check. Of course he should have expected that there was the possibility that she wouldn't believe that her lover hurt her child, but it still felt like a punch to the gut to hear how she defended someone who could be abusing her own child. Her next words hit him especially hard because they more or less guaranteed that it wasn't just the shock speaking.

"Then he must be lying." She was sobbing now, but that at all didn't diminish Tony's fury at hearing the words. "George wouldn't hurt him, I know it." She must have seen some kind of accusation in Gibbs' stony expression because she was reaching across the table and grabbed his hands, her eyes and voice pleading with him. "They don't get along well. Tommy hates George, but George always stays calm. Tommy just wants to get rid of him. That has to be it. George would never hurt Tommy. You have to believe me Agent Gibbs, he wouldn't."

Tony felt disgusted by her voice, her tears; the whole sight of her. He couldn't even fathom why she wouldn't believe her own child. Was she really so lonely and desperate after the death of her first husband that she was willing to sacrifice her own son for her own happiness? Was that really how a loving mother should react?

He was dimly aware of Gibbs extracting his hands from her grip and standing up. He listened with only one ear as the older agent told the weeping mother that he would talk to Shell now and that she would have to wait a bit longer until she could see her son. Tony didn't even notice Gibbs leaving the interrogation room and entering the observation room until he was standing right behind him. The Italian was too focused on the crying mother, slumped in her chair and shaking, mumbling 'I don't believe it. It isn't true' over and over, to notice anything else.

Gibbs didn't say anything, just stood there and watched the mother like his partner did. It was Tony who broke the silence first.

"You knew didn't you? That's why you wouldn't let me question at least her, if not Shell."

Gibbs merely grunted which Tony took as a yes.

"How?"

Gibbs didn't hesitate. "When we questioned them at their house, she clung to him too much. Acted as if he was her whole world. Of course she wouldn't believe that he hurt her only child. That would mean that the reality she had built for herself, their future together, would be a lie. It's difficult to accept something like that."

Tony knew that he was right. Now that he thought about it, she really had leaned on Shell a lot when she'd told them about Tommy's disappearance and the fight they'd had.

But shouldn't your own flesh and blood still have priority? He wondered, not for the first time, whether his own mother would have believed him if she'd lived long enough to see what her husband did to their child. Because of the alcohol, she had not been around too much, but when he remembered his mother, Tony recalled a pretty woman who always had a smile on her face when she saw him coming. She was also the only one who ever came to kiss him goodnight. Even if he hadn't seen her the whole day because she had been too busy drinking, he could be sure that she would appear in his doorway when it was time to go to sleep.

More often than notshe stumbled to his bed and when she kissed his cheek he could smell the alcohol on her breath. Sometimes she simply sat there and told him about missed opportunities and lost dreams with such a haunting bleakness in her slurred voice and with tears streaming down her face, that once she was gone he couldn't fall asleep for hours. He couldn't stop thinking about the woman that had once been young and full of hope who had eventually become like a ghost walking the halls of the mansion.

But despite everything, he was always happy when she came. He was also happy even if she sometimes didn't even seem to recognize him and treated him as if he was a stranger. In the end she always came to him and pressed a sloppy kiss on his forehead and that made him feel wanted and loved. As if someone would actually miss him if he should simply disappear one day – even if it was just a drunken woman.

Would she have done something if she'd lived to see the 'punishments' his father had dished out? Would she have broken out of her drunken stupor and actually found the strength to help her son and herself and escape the house and the man that kept her spirit captured for years?

Tony knew that that probably wouldn't have been the case. Maybe not so much because she didn't love or believe him, but because she wouldn't have been strong enough or brave enough, to do something about it. Sometimes he liked to tell himself that her love for him would have been stronger than her love for the alcohol or her fear of his father, but deep in his heart he knew the ugly truth.

Gibbs was openly staring at him so Tony shook the depressing thoughts about his mother and the many 'what if's' out of his mind. He hadn't thought about those in years but Mrs. Gallagher's reaction had opened some old wounds.

He would never admit it, of course, but Gibbs had made the right call when he'd forbidden him to question either Shell or Gallagher. He wouldn't have been able to keep his emotions in check if he'd been in there with the woman. He had enough trust in his own abilities to know that he wouldn't have verbally attacked her or anything, but she would have been able to sense his disgust and no matter how misguided the woman was, they still needed her to be willing to speak to them. Which she might not have done if she'd seen the disgust in the younger man's eyes.

Tony took a deep breath to quiet his frayed nerves. He'd already shown way too much emotion, it was time to put the lid back on. He managed a cocky grin and pointed in the direction of the other interrogation room where Shell was still worrying over his appearance in the mirror, totally oblivious to the drama going on around him.

"Don't suppose you changed your mind about letting me question Mr. Nice Guy over there, did you?"

Gibbs, who was definitely not amused, raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"One can dream, right?" Tony said lightly. He really wanted to question Shell but he hadn't really expected Gibbs to have reconsidered his decision.

But he also hadn't expected Gibbs to send him away completely.

"Why don't you go get Abby and the boy something to drink."

"What? But I-"

"I'm pretty sure they're thirsty and there's nothing for you to do here anyway."

Tony was hurt for a second before he realized what Gibbs _hadn't_ said.

_'There's nothing for you to do here except to shatter that mirror and kill Shell, and I for one, don't want to deal with the paperwork that would entail, so get lost.'_

He probably hadn't masked his feelings quite as well as he'd hoped, and the thought that reaching through the mirror to smack Shell around a bit actually sounded pretty good, convinced him that Gibbs might have a point. If he'd had a choice, he would stay right where he was, but although Gibbs had phrased it as a request, Tony knew that it was actually an order. Right now he could still make it look as if it was actually his choice whether he stayed or not. Because 'Stubborn' was his middle name, Tony normally would've argued to stay, but he still wasn't sure whether Gibbs had forgiven him yet and he didn't want to make more trouble for himself than he was probably already in.

And anyway, it was a lot more gratifying to heed a request than to follow an order.

"You're right." Tony drawled and moved to leave the room, feeling Gibbs hot on his heels. "I could use a break anyway. Watching you interrogate someone always makes me sleepy for some reason."

He grinned when he felt the familiar sensation of Gibbs' hand on the back of his head. If his boss could still head-slap him, then things couldn't be too bad between them.

"Let's see how sleepy you are after we had our little talk later."

Or maybe it could.

Tony lingered long enough to watch Gibbs enter the interrogation room where Shell was waiting, before he made his way to the vending machines.

He wasn't as angry about being left out as he had been just a few minutes before. He knew that Gibbs wouldn't go easy on Shell and that he would get the story out of the guy before long.

Now he was more worried about whether Mrs. Gallagher would change her mind and actually start thinking and realize that it was her job to believe her son and no one else in this situation. For the first time he wondered whether Tommy hadn't told his mother about the beatings because he knew she wouldn't believe him.

He really, really hoped that that wasn't the case but maybe he could find out. Gibbs hadn't said anything about questioning Tommy, right?

Tony grinned and there was a new bounce in his steps.

Maybe he could do his bit after all.

TBC

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Next chapter is coming soon, promise. You're probably angry with me for letting you wait so long, but I hope you review anyway and tell me what you think, even if it's just a 'You stink.' (Hey, that rhymed!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: The boys and girls do not belong to me

**A/N:** A fast update - my apology for the long hiatus. And it's a really really long chapter too! I want to thank everyone for their reviews and kind words and a big thank you goes to my beta AZGirl for the super fast work and spot on suggestions and corrections.

This chapter is kind of important because it concludes the 'Tommy side-plot'. We finally find out what's going on and turn back to the other problem at hand which (or rather "who") hasn't been mentioned in a while... as you will see by the end of this chapter *evil laughter*

Please read the A/N at the end of the chapter.

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The Days After The Day

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Chapter 11

The lab was silent. A silence so oppressive it was like nothing Tony had ever experienced before. He looked around himself – at the faces that stared back at him and the ones that didn't – and wondered when everything had gone downhill.

He'd tried talking to the boy, to pump him for information, but Tommy just kept shutting him out. He'd said that he'd told them everything he wanted to tell them and that he now just wanted to forget about it. It had felt odd to Tony, that the kid didn't want to talk. When he was younger, he would have killed to have someone to just talk to; someone who he knew wouldn't judge him but comfort him and tell him that nothing was his fault. He'd had that someone, once, but instead of seizing the chance, he'd shied away from it and it had taken 15 years to meet that person again. He didn't want Tommy to have the same regrets.

But no matter how hard he tried, Tommy wouldn't budge, didn't even acknowledge his presence until he finally stopped trying. Abby hadn't made matters any easier. Convinced that the boy simply needed some space, she sabotaged Tony's efforts every chance she got. In the end he'd abandoned his plan to interrogate the kid, and simply let it go. Gibbs would make sure that Shell talked and Tommy and his mother would clear things up with each other themselves once the man was gone.

They'd sipped their sodas, talked about movies, Abby's job and her life with the nuns ("You live with nuns? Isn't that boring?" "Oh, not at all, young grasshopper. They are very wise old ladies that can rock the bowling alley!"). And, sitting back against a wall, all seemed well for a while - even fun.

Tony suddenly felt as if he was being watched. And, when he'd glanced towards the doorway, the man had been so silent and inconspicuous; it seemed as if Gibbs had magically appeared there.

"Did he talk?" Tony asked, eager to arrest Shell if Gibbs hadn't already done it. Seeing Gibbs, Abby moved towards the corner and started biting her painted fingernails. Tony was too taken up with Gibbs' entry to notice how Tommy's eyes lost all levity and became guarded. He also didn't see how the kid went from looking semi-relaxed to almost small and defenseless.

Gibbs' shoulders tensed and those blue eyes dart to his own with something like pity in them before it was hidden again.

"Yes he did."

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_Half an hour earlier, interrogation room_

For a while, Gibbs did nothing but sit there and watch Shell. Not a word was spoken, and neither of the men even made an attempt to start the conversation. They just kept staring at each other across the table.

Gibbs was, admittedly, rather impressed. He had expected Shell to crack by now, give in to his curiosity and nervousness. But while he could clearly see the puzzlement in Shell's face, the man refused to utter the first word.

So it was Gibbs who broke the silence first.

"We talked to Tommy."

Shell merely raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Gibbs nodded and pretended to read something in the files he'd brought with him. "He told us some interesting things about you."

The man in front of him frowned. It was the first sign of anything bordering on discomfort. "Can't possibly imagine what the boy has to say about me. We barely know each other."

Gibbs decided to use another approach. While he believed Tommy, something about Shells behavior didn't sit right with him. Something didn't add up.

"We also talked with your ex-girlfriend."

A sharp intake of breath met his statement. Shell bit his lip and averted his eyes. "Why would you talk with Ginger?"

Gibbs feigned surprise. "Why do you assume we talked to her? Why not one of your other girlfriends?"

"Ginger was the only other girl I was serious about. Before Sally. The others wouldn't have anything to tell you about me." He met Gibbs' gaze. He seemed to be more annoyed than anything. "Which doesn't answer my question."

"Funny, usually it's me who asks the questions in here." Gibbs drawled. "But I'll indulge you. We wanted to know more about you, that's why we called her. And I got to say, she said some things that were pretty surprising."

"Such as?"

"Well, she told us that you broke it off with her because you wanted kids and she didn't."

Shell fidgeted in his seat now, the frown on his face growing more pronounced. "Why would that surprise you, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs got up and walked around the table to come to a halt beside Shell. He towered over him but the sitting man didn't shy away, another trait that Gibbs couldn't help but find impressive. "I'm just wondering how a guy goes from wanting to have some kids, to beating them."

Shell stared at him with uncomprehending eyes, and Gibbs could literally see the moment the words finally registered. His face lost all color and his mouth snapped open in utter shock. It looked real.

"Wha- What are you saying? Are you- are you implying that I...?"

"I'm not implying anything, Mr. Shell. Tommy told us that you were the one to give him the black eye. Are you saying that's not true?"

Shell jumped from his seat but fell back immediately when Gibbs held up a warning hand. "Of course it's not true. God, we may have our difficulties - we're certainly not best friends - but I would never hit him. I would never hit a child period, you've got to believe me!"

"So you're saying you never abused Thomas?"

"Never!"

"So who gave him the black eye then, Mr. Shell."

It had been a rhetorical question since Gibbs couldn't imagine how Shell would know that even if it really hadn't been him. So it came quite as a surprise to Gibbs, when Shell actually _did_ know.

"It was that Masterson kid from across the street. What's his name? Elton... Er-Eric! That's it. Eric Masterson. Nasty little brat."

Gibbs was taken aback and went back to his own seat. He was beginning to have a really bad feeling about this. "Explain."

Shell swallowed a few times and visibly calmed down now that Gibbs was willing to listen. "I came home from work about a week ago and found the two boys, Eric and Thomas, fighting in front of Eric's house. I intervened of course. Thomas' eye was already swelling up and Eric's nose was bleeding rather heavily. I don't know why they fought, but Thomas begged me not to tell his mother. Eric's parents came home just then, we discussed it and decided that the boys should resolve this on their own. So there was technically no reason to tell Sally anymore, since the matter was over and..."

"And you agreed?"

Shell rubbed his eyes and suddenly he seemed a lot older and tired than mere seconds ago. "Agent Gibbs, I'm marrying a woman whose son hates my guts and seizes every chance he gets to undermine me. We were all boys once, we all fought with one and another now and then. I really didn't see the harm and I thought that if I did this for him..." he sighed and gave Gibbs a glum smile. "Guess I hoped he wouldn't hate me so much anymore."

Gibbs could see how a man like Shell could believe that. Too bad teenagers weren't that easily won over.

"You can back up that story with facts?"

Shell's face brightened and he produced a little address book from his pocket. He leafed through it for a few seconds before he found what he was looking for and gave it to Gibbs. "This is Mr. Mastersons number. Call him. Like I said, he and his wife are aware of the fight and they both saw the black eye and the bloody nose."

Gibbs took down the phone number and left the room without another word. He was already punching the number into his cell to check Shell's story, but deep in his heart he knew that the man was telling the truth.

That could only mean one thing – that Tommy was lying.

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"You don't understand! You don't know what it's like…

"They think they are so clever, you know? They think I'm just a stupid little kid that doesn't get anything." Tommy laughed - a sound that was more contemptuous than anything else. "I was for a while, I admit. For a while I was a stupid little kid, because I actually thought that my mother had loved my father, despite their differences."

Abby finally stopped biting her nails when she realized that the two men weren't going to say anything. "I'm sure she did sweetheart. Just because she will marry again doesn't mean-"

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid!" Tommy shouted and jumped up from where he sat against the wall. His face was red and his breathing erratic. Tony hadn't expected such a strong reaction from the kid, especially now that they'd called him on his lie. But, it was more like all his fury had finally found an outlet.

The Italian realized for the first time that this wasn't a teenager that had lied out of some childish spite. This was a kid that had lied because he hadn't known any other way to deal with all that anger bottled up inside of him. That knowledge eased a bit of the disappointment he'd felt when Gibbs had told them about the fight. That kind of hate didn't come out of nowhere and no way in hell did Tony believe that a simple marriage was enough to make someone despise another person enough to risk sending them to jail and afterward not even feel any remorse about it.

Abby looked lost and Tony chimed in again. He had been the one who had believed Tommy the most from the very beginning, who had believed that abuse was the cause for his disappearance before the boy had even mentioned it himself. Now that he thought about it, he may even have put words into the boy's mouth back in the parking garage when he'd so openly asked whether Shell was the reason for running away. Maybe he'd even given him the idea for the lie. If that was the case, then it was also his job to get the whole story now, even if it was already a little too late.

"No one thinks you are stupid." He soothed the boy who showed no sign of calming down. Tony briefly wondered why Gibbs was so silent. Maybe the older agent also thought that Tony should be the one to fix this. "We just want to understand. Is this marriage really bothering you so much or is there something more."

Tommy narrowed his eyes and glared daggers at him. "She can marry whatever ass she wants to. I don't care what that woman does."

The literal light bulb went on in Tony's head. "It's not Shell you are mad at. It's your mother."

Tommy seemed to crumble in on himself, but his voice was still strong, full of uncontrolled emotions. "She doesn't deserve to be happy. Not after what she did."

Abby cringed at the words and Tony thought he'd heard a sharp intake of breath from Gibbs' direction, but he was too shocked himself to pay much attention.

"What could she have done that you think she doesn't deserve happiness?"

"She betrayed everything."

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_Tommy felt guilty, and it was not a feeling he was accustomed to as of late._

_Since his father had died in the line of duty there had been so much anger and hurt inside of him that he sometimes couldn't even think straight. He missed his father. Missed his smile, his laughter __and his weird sense of humor. He missed his father's big hands, the way they would close around his as he showed Tommy how to hold the baseball bat right. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but he even missed the way his father scolded him, how his face would get all scrunched up and red from anger._

_He missed all of it, but although his father was dead, it was actually his mother he missed most of all._

_She was still there, her room was right next to his and she came every night to wish him a good night, so there really was no reason why he should miss her. But when his father had died, it had been as if a wall had come crashing down between them. As if there was this chasm between them that neither could explain nor overcome. Sometimes he caught his mother looking at him and there was something in her gaze that unsettled him. It suddenly felt like they were strangers, treating each other with forced politeness. They were drifting apart like two ships during a storm when they should have stayed close to weather it together._

_And that prick, George Shell, hadn't helped matters any._

_Tommy couldn't understand why she would need or want a new man by her side. He hadn't expected her to stay alone forever, but wouldn't a cat or dog have been enough company to begin with? But instead of a pet, she'd brought home a new lover and all that awkwardness between them had soon turned into anger on Tommy's part. He'd started to snap at her, blame her for everything that went wrong with his life. When he'd gotten the black eye from Eric during that fight a few days ago, he'd wanted to blame her too. But then he'd seen the fear and uncertainty in her face, a mother wondering what had happened to her son, and a devious part of him found that leaving her in the dark was a great way to punish her. That he'd convinced Shell, her beloved George, to keep the true reasons for the injury from her had been like the icing on the cake. He hadn't allowed himself to feel anything when he'd seen the tears gather in her eyes. She deserved it for simply forgetting about her husband._

_Because just a few minutes ago, they'd told him that they were going to marry, and he had lost it._

_Tommy had screamed and insulted them. He wasn't sure, but maybe he'd even thrown something in his rage. It was all a blur by the time he'd run up to his room. He'd continued screaming and pounding his fists against the wall and only when he'd grown tired and stopped did he hear the sounds of his mother crying._

_He'd sat on his bed, wondering what he should do next. He could hear them talk downstairs. His mother still sounded teary while George sounded mad. Not that Tommy cared what mood George was in, but his mother was another matter. He actually started to feel a bit bad. Sure, he wanted her to feel how angry he was with her, but he didn't want her to be unhappy._

_His father wouldn't want that._

_It was this thought more than anything else that convinced Tommy that he had to apologize. He usually didn't do that, but he was smart enough to realize that no temper tantrum in the world would keep the two of them from marrying. He would have to live with that man from now on, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to at least pretend that he wanted to try to get along._

_As he'd left his room, Tommy tried to make as little noise as possible. Why he did that was a mystery even to himself, until he reached the banister and stopped at the top of the stairs to listen in on their conversation. He hadn't realized that he wanted to eavesdrop until he actually did it._

"_This is terrible." His mother was saying, followed by the peculiar sound she always made when she blew her nose. "I knew he wouldn't be happy but-"_

"_Don't let his attitude get to you, honey."_

_Tommy clenched his fists. God, how he hated that guy._

"_I know, I know. I just- I had just hoped that it would get easier now but-" she sighed and her voice grew thinner. Tommy had to strain his ears to still hear her. "I'm tired of lying to him."_

_Tommy's eyes widened, then narrowed. What did she mean, lying? Why had she been lying to him? About what?"_

"_Don't you think he's old enough to know the truth? I mean, he's smart. I'm positive you're underestimating him if you think that he won't understand._

_The boy upstairs was taken aback. That was probably the nicest thing George had ever said about him. But now that he thought about it, the man had never actually badmouthed him. When they'd fought he'd always tried to stay civil, while Tommy liked to punch below the belt, so to speak._

"_Were you not in the room just a few minutes ago?" his mother asked. "When he reacts that way to our marriage, how do you suppose he'll react to... that!"_

_'What is 'that'?' Tommy thought. He wanted to go down there and demand some answers but then he'd never get them. His mother could be just as stubborn as him._

_His mother blew her nose again and there was the sound of rustling. Tommy realized with a bit of a sick feeling in his stomach that they must have been cuddling on the couch. "How is it that you still want to marry me, after all this trouble?" she asked._

"_Hey," George said, and there was a tenderness in his voice that Tommy had never heard before. He began to wonder whether the guy was completely different when it was just his mother and him. Or rather – whether he was completely different when there wasn't a little kid trying to bait him. "We've known and loved each other for over a year. Of course I still want to marry you."_

_His mother's answer was lost on Tommy because the big 'click' in his head drowned everything else out._

_They'd known and loved each other for over a year? But his father had only died some six months ago..._

_A big red wave swept through Tommy's head. He staggered and made a step as if to run downstairs, but then he turned and ran back to his room. For a second he simply stood there, not knowing what he'd wanted here until his eyes fell on his skateboard. It had been a gift from his father. He grabbed it in a kind of trance and clutched it to his chest. Tears were burning in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He only wanted to leave. Leave this house where that woman lived. Who'd lied to him and betrayed the person that he'd loved the most. Leave and never look back._

_And he did just that._

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"She was already seeing that guy when my father was still alive!" He finally let those tears fall. They were running down his cheeks in angry rivers, fast and unhindered. "And when he died, she actually acted as if she cared. Crying at his funeral and all that shit. She was probably glad that he was dead. Her lover too. The two of them must have been laughing good and hard when the service was over. That must have been such a blast for them." His voice broke on the last word and he was sobbing in earnest now.

Tony wanted to go and comfort him, wanted to tell him that he understood now. He didn't approve of it, but he understood how a child could make a rash decision when faced with such a revelation.

It wasn't okay, but he understood.

Abby beat him to the hug, crushing the boy to her chest and holding him tightly until the rivers had run dry and the sobs were reduced to the occasional hiccup. Tony turned around and was surprised to see Gibbs still standing there, watching the Goth and the boy. Somehow he would have thought that the older Agent would have left the sentimental stuff to them and be long gone by now.

As he looked on, Gibbs went over to Tommy and laid a hand on his shoulder. It didn't look like a gesture that was supposed to be comforting neither did it seem controlling. Tony guessed that it was just a Gibbs-thing, not really meant to be anything in particular.

"I'll bring you to your mother now. She and her fiancé are waiting."

Tommy stiffened put didn't pull away. He probably knew that escape was futile at this point.

"I don't want to talk to them. I don't even want to see them."

"Tough. NCIS is no kindergarten. You will come with me, go home with them, and then the three of you are going to have a long talk about everything."

Tommy sniffed and ran his sleeve over his eyes and nose, a gesture that made him seem even younger. No matter how hard the kid tried to act otherwise, Tony thought, he was still a child.

"I don't think so."

"Well, I do." Gibbs said and led the boy out of the lab, hand still resting on his tiny shoulder.

As Tony followed them he heard Abby giggle, a bit tearful but also full of humor.

"And Gibbs' word is law."

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The reunion in the bullpen wasn't tearful or even particularly loving. Mrs. Gallagher enveloped her son in a crushing hug and stroked his hair, but Tommy didn't reciprocate or react in any way. He simply stood there, arms hanging by his sides and staring over her shoulder, gaze fixed on the wall. Shell kept his distance too. He looked as if he didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

Gibbs and DiNozzo watched from the other side of the room. They had told Mrs. Gallagher and Shell that Tommy had overheard their conversation the night that he'd disappeared. The both of them had looked genuinely shocked, and in the widow's case even guilty. Gibbs had seen the need in her eyes to explain, to make excuses, but something had stopped her. In the end, she'd simply nodded and said that she would talk with her son about it. They couldn't do more than that, and while it bothered Gibbs, he couldn't help but notice that his partner seemed to loath the situation with all his heart.

The young agent watched the little would-be family with a face void of all expressions. Only his stormy eyes seemed to convey some of his true emotions. Gibbs noticed that his gaze rested on the mother and sighed.

"She was right. About her son."

Tony snorted, his eyes flickering to Gibbs' face before returning to the mother. "Doesn't matter. It's not her job to determine whether he tells the truth or not. It's ours. Hers is to believe her son, no matter what."

Gibbs watched him. "You really think that?"

Tony scrunched up his nose, bit his lip and then simply ran a tired hand over his face. "I should have known that he was lying." he finally confessed. Gibbs had known all along that Tony didn't blame the mother but himself, but it was good to actually hear it from the agent himself. "He was too aloof, too... jaded. Some kids deal with abuse like that, that's why I didn't notice that there was anything wrong at first, at least not consciously. They play hard and untouchable, as if nothing could hurt them. Some even joke about it and act as if it's the most natural thing in the world to be hurt by the ones you should trust."

"Like you did."

Gibbs didn't really expect a reaction. The words had slipped from his mouth and even before he'd finished speaking, he'd prepared himself for denial. This wasn't the place, nor the time, to confront the young man about his own experiences with abuse and Gibbs seriously doubted that Tony was ready to admit anything yet.

But DiNozzo surprised him once again. Instead of ignoring him or walking away, the younger agent took a deep breath before looking at Gibbs with a lot of resignation and a small trace of annoyance.

"Not now, Gibbs."

Normally, Gibbs would have never accepted such a brush off from his underlings. He wasn't obsessive about it, but he was still the boss and he demanded a bit of respect. Any other agent would have been treated to one of his famous tongue-lashings for such a blatant insubordination.

Not this time though. This time, Gibbs was just overwhelmingly glad that Tony had finally admitted that his father had abused him. Not in so many words - not with any words at all, really – but he hadn't denied Gibbs' statement and that was a big leap forward.

'Not now' in this case meant 'Later' and Gibbs could live with that. He could wait a bit longer if that was what it took for Tony to open up. But not too long.

"Later." he conceded. Tony seemed to slump in on himself for a tiny second and Gibbs wondered whether it was out of trepidation or relief. "We still have to talk about your disobedience too."

The young Italian grimaced and rubbed his temples. "I know. I know. But could we postpone that too, please? I've got one hell of a headache."

Gibbs knew that it had to be bad if Tony actually admitted that he was in pain, and to tell the truth, he wasn't really that keen on having that conversation tonight either. It had been a long day.

"Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow is my day off."

"Then come to my house. You can help me with the boat."

Tony looked surprised. "Boat? Do I even want to know?"

Gibbs smiled. He could imagine that Tony would like what he had in his basement, and maybe the work and a bit of Bourbon would loosen DiNozzo's tongue. He had no intention of just talking about disciplinary measures tomorrow. He was finally going to get some answers and a more personal environment could only help.

"Probably not. Go home, I'll see you tomorrow."

Tony nodded and gathered his things. He seemed to hesitate but in the end he went over to Tommy and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. Gibbs also saw him giving Tommy his card and telling him to call if he needed someone to talk to. The former Marine smiled at the sight and was glad to see that Tommy actually pocketed the card with a grateful nod.

After Tony was gone, Gibbs briefly spoke with the mother again, reminding her to finally talk with her son and to maybe get some professional help. She promised she would and that she was sorry for having caused so much trouble. Tommy refused to look at any of them, especially his mother. And, when she had tried touching his arm as they approached the elevator, he roughly shook her off.. She looked as if she wanted to cry.

Gibbs frowned after the elevator had closed behind them. They still had a long way to go and he really hoped that the mother would heed his advice to seek some outside help. This must have been a wake up call for her, but he doubted that she was strong or resilient enough to do this on her own. Although Shell seemed to care for the child as well, Gibbs didn't think that he would be a big help right now. Tommy was still too angry and hurt to listen to anyone, least of all the hated stepfather.

He wasn't angry at the boy, but he was deeply disturbed by how much the mother and son had drifted apart after Mr. Gallagher's death. For him, who had lost his entire family at once, it was unthinkable that you didn't stick together as a family to get through the grief. He hoped that they would realize that relying on each other had more benefits than dealing with things on their own.

Gibbs contemplated going home as well but decided to brief Morrow first. It was him who had asked them to look into this matter after all.

Tom seemed shocked and saddened but admitted that he knew about the crumbling marriage of his friend and his wife. He'd often told them to finally get a divorce but they had been worried about Tommy and how he would take it.

"Well, I think he would have taken that better than what he knows now." Tom said with a shake of his head. They talked a bit more before Morrow sent Gibbs away, claiming that he wanted to call Sally and offer some support.

An hour had passed by the time Gibbs returned to his desk and just as he was about to leave, his desk phone began to ring. He hit the loudspeaker since no one was around and he wanted his hands free to gather his stuff.

"Am I speaking to Agent Gibbs?"

The voice that echoed through the bullpen sent a shiver down his spine, although he couldn't tell why.

"You are. And who is this?"

The man on the other end ignored his question. His voice was crisp and business like. "Do you know an Agent Anthony DiNozzo?"

The shiver was running a race now - up and down, up and down. "Yes I do. But I think I asked you who you are? What is this about?"

His voice had always been his best weapon, and he was gratified to hear the man on the other line stumble over his next words.

"I- I'm Detective Jenson, Sir. There has been an explosion, Sir." He told him the address and Gibbs grew weak in the knees when he recognized it.

"DiNozzo temporarily lives there. It's the house of his friend. What happened? How is my Agent, Detective?" Gibbs realized that he was shouting into the phone but couldn't bring himself to care. This couldn't happen. It just couldn't!

"I'm sorry Agent Gibbs, but there has been a fatality."

TBC

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OMG, I'm appalled by my own evilness... review and tell me just HOW evil I am. xD

I wanted to show that Tommy, although he lied, didn't just do it because he was some evil little brat but because he'd had a revelation that really shocked and angered him. Knowing your parents lied to you, and about such a big thing too, with your father, the most important person in your life, just having died a few months back... well that's gotta mess with your head, right? And the mother or Shell aren't evil either. Just adults that made a mistake and are too stuck up to actually make things right again. They are the typical adults, thinking that they know better and truly believing that they are doing the kid a favor but in reality just underestimating Tommy and the damage their well meaning lies could do.

Now we'll move on to the other subplot and I think we all know who's behind that explosion...


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: These boys are not mine. They would have gone crazy a long time ago if they were.

A/N: Hello everyone. You waited a long time for this chapter but for that you get a monster of a chapter! Almost 8000 words! I've never written anything this long in one go before.

You should know two things: 1. I know NOTHING about explosions or fires or any of that stuff. So if you do know these things because you happen to be a fireman or something like that, please refrain from telling me how the stuff I wrote here is not possible and just stupid. I tried to keep it realistic and if I failed horribly I can only say that I'm sorry and remind you that this is fanfiction and that you probably would have had to wait another year for this chapter if you'd wanted me to study this stuff before writing it down.

2. Part of this chapter **contains heavily hinted gore!** It's nothing too gruesome and I'm pretty sure none of you will lose sleep over it but I wanted to warn you nonetheless. There are some fragile flowers out there and I don't want to offend anyone. So this chapter is **rated a heavy T!**

Last but not least I'd like to thank my beta **AZGirl** for her hard work and wonderful suggestions and comments.

Let's get started.

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The Days After The Day

Chapter 12

As Gibbs turned into the street where his agent temporarily lived, his first thought was that he'd entered a battle field.

It had taken him less than 10 minutes to reach his destination, a drive that would have taken others about half an hour. He'd stopped counting the traffic offenses he'd committed on the way over, only vaguely grateful that there hadn't been an eager traffic policeman to stop him.

That encounter wouldn't have gone very well.

But now Gibbs was finally where he was supposed to be and the sight that greeted him caused his wildly beating heart to plummet into his stomach.

Tony hadn't told him much about the kind of place where he'd been staying, only that it was very neat and that he felt a bit out of place there. He'd told him that, although his friend let him stay there for free, he was more than ready to find his own place to live.

And indeed Gibbs could see why Tony would feel that way. Both sides of the street where lined with identical houses, complete with white fences in front of them. They were all the same color as well, every one of them adorned with a forest green door. It looked like a picture you might find on a postcard. A place you move to because its dullness promised safety for you and your children. A place so shielded from the world out there that even evil can't find it. Except that Gibbs, due to his job, knew that such places bore their own dangers. Dangerous men who decided to live here because the monotony would make it easier for them to slip into anonymity, to hide their true colors and the threat they posed to their neighbors. A person like DiNozzo, who neither craves anonymity nor dullness in his life, would find a place like this stifling and too sedate for his tastes.

Despite all that, Gibbs could tell that it was a tranquil little neighborhood.

Or rather, it would have been, if there hadn't been an explosion earlier today and if there were no firemen running up and down the street which was awash in red and blue lights. Gibbs parked his car a few feet away and took a second to take everything in. The people standing on the sidewalk in their wardrobes, some crying and some rather forcefully demanding what was going on. Some of them watched the firemen do their work in curios fascination, probably thinking that this looked a lot more realistic than what they saw on TV all the time.

Other eyes were, much like Gibbs', riveted to the single house in the street that didn't fit in with the rest anymore. In front of this house, the white fence only existed in pieces anymore while the rest of it was spread over the street. The green door didn't exist at all anymore. It had turned into dust in the explosion. Gibbs could immediately tell that the blast had originated from close behind said door, otherwise the scene he was staring at right now simply wouldn't be possible. It was a grotesque sight, the rest of the house still standing and more or less undamaged while you could see the living room through the still lightly simmering hole where once the front of the house had been. The explosion couldn't have been very big but big enough to kill you should you stand on the porch when it went up.

The thought sent a very bad feeling though Gibbs' gut. While the sight of the crime scene, for he had no doubts that this had been no accident, held his interest for a while, Gibbs' eyes soon wandered off and searched for the one person he only wanted to see right now.

It didn't take him long to find the lonely figure sitting on the curb. He was wrapped in a bright orange blanket and sitting just outside of the lights, shrouding him in shadows. Gibbs' eyes were still sharp and he had no trouble verifying that the man was, aside from a few scratches on his left cheek and a gash on his left arm, apparently mostly unhurt.

The huge ball of dread and misery that had lodged itself into his throat ever since that phone call finally dissipated. Gibbs couldn't help the huge sigh of relief, or the way his whole body sagged into his seat, feeling totally spent. He hadn't known how tightly strung he'd been the whole time until now.

Detective Jenson had already told him that the fatality hadn't been Tony, but being here and seeing his agent for himself, relatively okay and obviously not dead, was something else entirely.

A tap on his window brought Gibbs out of his musings. Beside his car stood a man in his fifties with a harried look on his unshaven face. His rumpled clothes suggested that he'd already been in bed when they had called him in. Gibbs got out of his car and nodded to the man.

"Detective Jenson?"

"Agent Gibbs." Jenson said, not unfriendly. "I didn't expect you here this fast."

"Any idea what happened here, apart from the obvious?"

Jenson shrugged his shoulders and kneaded his neck. There were black bags under his eyes but not the kind you got from one sleepless night. It was obvious that Jenson was a man who was used to midnight outings.

"An explosion that was centered around the front door. We- ah, Steve, come over for a second please." He had discovered an uniformed fireman and was waving him over now. The fireman, a guy in his thirties with ash blond hair and a stocky build, looked peeved for a moment but then jogged over. He reached them and greeted Gibbs with a small smile that looked a bit forced.

"Yo."

"Steve, this is Agent Gibbs from NCIS." He turned to Gibbs. "Steve is our resident fire marshal."

Steve's eyebrows rose and his right hand began to rub at a smudge of soot on his cheek. "NCIS? Was the victim a Marine?"

Jenson shook his head, but it was Gibbs who answered. "No, but your witness is my agent. That makes it NCIS' business."_ 'And mine.'_ he added silently.

Steve's eyes flickered to the lone figure on the curb who seemed oblivious to everything around him. He turned back to Gibbs with a more genuine smile. "Cool. So I'll report my findings to you then?"

Gibbs expected Jenson to argue, but the man seemed more relieved than anything else. He was probably thinking about going back to bed.

"Do you already have something to report?" Gibbs didn't mean to sound so impatient, but he was dying to go to his agent and the introductions had already taken up more time than he could afford.

If Steve noticed his brusque demeanor he didn't seem to mind. "Nope. According to your witness the explosion was triggered when the victim opened the door."

"Sounds like a bomb to me." Gibbs growled.

"It does," the man admitted. "Except that the victim was smoking a cigarette by the time he opened the door. These buildings may look new on the outside Agent Gibbs, but they are pretty old. Built in the nineteenth century. They are all still cooking and burning gas. According to the neighbors, the heater is set in an little alcove directly besides the front door. It could be a minor gas explosion triggered by the cigarette." He rubbed his forehead and stared long and hard at the destruction that was the focus of their conversation.

Gibbs was good at reading people and this time was no different. "But you don't believe that." he said and watched as Steve's expression went from thoughtful to resigned.

"We can't rule it out yet. It's late and dark and we don't have the necessary light or manpower to specify anything. We'll know more in the morning."

Gibbs could tell that rushing this guy would be fruitless so he nodded curtly, told them that some NCIS agents would arrive soon to undertake the investigation and finally made his way over to his agent.

He was a bit worried when Tony didn't immediately sense his approach. The young man was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and his ankles crossed. One arm was tucked between his legs and stomach while the other had a white knuckled grip on the blanket covering him. He was staring at a spot somewhere near his shoes and every few seconds he seemed to take a deep breath.

Tony looked small, defenseless and scared and the sight did something to Gibbs' throat that he'd rather not think about.

He was debating whether he should say something to make himself known when Tony finally looked up and acknowledged him. His face was dirty with soot and his eyes red and irritated from the smoke.

"Boss" he croaked. "Hope you don't mind that I asked them to call you. The paramedics wouldn't let me drive myself."

Gibbs certainly didn't mind. In fact, he was secretly pleased that Tony had thought of him when asked to name someone who would look after him. "Don't worry about it. Wouldn't want anyone else but me here anyway."

Tony's lips twitched briefly, but it was a far cry from what you could call a smile. "Thanks."

Gibbs saw two paramedics keeping an eye on them from a few feet away and nodded to show them that he had everything under control. They exchanged a look that spoke of great relief before turning back to a woman who had apparently hyperventilated from all the excitement. Gibbs wondered how much grief his agent had given them before he'd arrived.

"Why are they letting you go home anyway? Shouldn't you go to a hospital?"

Tony shrugged and winced when it jarred his injured arm. "I'm fine. Just a couple of bruises. I've had worse."

Gibbs didn't doubt that but he still had half a mind to order Tony to let them check him out at the hospital when two men pushed a stretcher past them. Whatever lay under the tarp was technically too small to be a human body but Tony still flinched and closed his eyes. Gibbs closed his eyes too.

Whatever lay under the tarp was too small to be an _intact_ human body.

"What happened?"

Tony refused to look at Gibbs. "I already told Detective Jenson."

Gibbs took a seat beside his agent but was careful not to touch him. "Tell me."

His tone had been kind but firm. Tony's face screwed up and his hands began to fidget with his blanket. It was a warm night but the man still seemed to shiver and it got harder and harder for Gibbs to keep his arm from going around his agent's shoulders.

"He wasn't supposed to be here." Tony finally said. "He was supposed to be gone for another few weeks..."

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Tony got out of his car feeling as if he hadn't slept in about a week. This whole business with Tommy had shaken him badly and worst of all he had more or less promised Gibbs that they would talk about... stuff.

He wasn't really ready for that, not by a long shot, and he wasn't really looking forward to telling Gibbs that he'd changed his mind. The man would be furious.

He still didn't know why he'd agreed in the first place. When Gibbs had approached him he'd been tired and stressed and pretty disappointed in himself. He'd been angry too. Angry at Tommy for lying, angry at the mother who'd let it come to that and angry at Gibbs for being right. But most of all, he'd been angry at himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He'd promised himself that he'd never do that, and here he was, working his first case with Gibbs and totally blowing it.

His thoughts had been a jumble, his emotions all over the place, and when Gibbs had more or less asked him if he'd been abused, he'd simply been too tired to deny it. Instead he'd promised Gibbs a talk about something he never even wanted to think about, just to shut the man up and finally leave that awful day behind him.

And now he'd have to deal with the consequences.

Tony sighed and rummaged through his pockets for his keys when he heard footsteps behind him. He tensed and whirled around, his nerves getting the better of him. He relaxed immediately when the figure jumped back a bit and held up his arms.

"Whoa, don't shoot."

Tony snorted and clapped the man on the shoulder. "My hand wasn't anywhere near my gun, or you wouldn't be alive anymore." He took a step back and frowned at his grinning friend. "What are you doing here Jim? I thought you'd be gone for another few weeks."

Jim Nixon, one of his oldest friends and who owned the house where Tony lived right now, smiled proudly and pointed to the suitcase by his side. "We brokered the deal faster than we thought we would." He noticed Tony's look and added. "Yes. I am that good."

Tony laughed a bit, marveling at Jim's ability to cheer him up in a matter of seconds. Not much was left of the insecure little boy that had run away from bullies on a daily basis. Jim had grown tall in recent years, his body steeled by daily visits to the gym. In fact, he towered over Tony by several inches and if they hadn't been friends, the Italian might have been a bit intimidated by the big man.

Anyone seeing him and knowing the problems he'd had with bigger boys when he was a kid, had to assume that Jim would feel smug now, that he'd now be the one to torment the ones weaker than him just because he could. Tony wouldn't have blamed him if he'd decided to give his old tormentors a visit and show them just how much little Jimmy had changed.

But that was the thing about Jim: He seemed to be completely oblivious to the changes he'd undergone in the past few years. Sometimes he didn't even seem to be aware of his own strength. On the outside he might look like your regular jock, but on the inside he was a gentle and benevolent soul that wished no one harm. Not even the jerks from back then.

Just one of the reasons why Tony had fought so hard to keep in contact with him.

"I know you are." Tony said. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and his good mood vanished without a trace. "Hey, it'd be great if I could stay another night. It's pretty late and I'd rather not look for a motel right now, I'm pretty beat." Jim looked at him with an expression that he couldn't place and Tony hurriedly backpedaled. "But I'm sure I'll find something. I mean, I don't want to impose-"

"You're an idiot, DiNozzo." Jim said but his amused smile belied the harsh words. "I told you you could stay here for the next few months."

"Yeah, but only because you wouldn't be here."

"Just because I'm awesome at my job, doesn't mean I'm gonna throw you out."

Tony still sometimes found it difficult to get used to Jim's new self-confidence. He wondered whether the man had visited a self-help class. The thought brought a smile to his lips. "Are you sure? I don't want to be in the way."

Jim shot a meaningful look at the 'big' house and motioned Tony to follow him. "Are you kidding? The first few weeks I lived here I got lost in my own house. It's too big for one person anyway, don't know what got into me when I bought it."

But Tony knew. Jim made no secret of the fact that he wanted to run his own basketball team with a beautiful wife as co-trainer. He was a family man so it was only natural that he'd buy a family home.

Jim went through his pockets and produced his keys and a pack of cigarettes.

Tony wrinkled his nose. "I thought you'd stopped?"

"Um - they belong to a friend?"

Tony laughed. "That hasn't worked for years buddy."

His friend laughed too and cast the cigarettes a look that spoke of great affection. "What can I say? I'm weak."

They were in front of the door when Tony realized that he'd forgotten his backpack in his car. He debated leaving it there but then decided that no matter how sedate this neighborhood seemed to be, you never knew when a thief might decide to pay this place a visit. No sense taking a risk.

He told Jim that he needed to get something and jogged to his car on the other side of the street. Before he bent into the cab he cast a last look at his friend to see him putting his key in the lock, a burning cigarette dangling from his lips.

"You know," Tony shouted, still smirking and enjoying himself. "Those things are gonna kill you one day."

Jim turned his head just a bit, showing Tony the profile of his grinning face. The mouth around the cigarette opened to shoot off a witty comeback while the key turned in the lock and the door swung open a crack.

And everything was light and noise and pain.

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"It was just a joke." Tony whispered, staring at where the men where putting the stretcher into the waiting van.

"What was?" Gibbs asked. He'd been silent the whole time, giving Tony the space to get it all off his chest. He remembered Tony telling him that he'd met Jim Nixon 15 years ago too. He hadn't thought much of it then but now he found himself mourning the man that had been a good friend to his agent and the fact that he still couldn't remember him. He'd never forget that name now, at least that he could promise.

"The stuff with the cigarettes. Killing him and all that." Tony swallowed hard and Gibbs wondered how much his agent had seen of what the explosion had done to his friend.

"You think that's what happened?"

"That man, Steve, he said it could have been a gas explosion."

"You think that's what happened?" Gibbs repeated.

The Italian fidgeted with his blanket some more before he finally dropped it and stood up. "They told me they'd know more tomorrow."

He was evading the question. Something about his voice didn't sound right and worst of all, Tony couldn't look him in the eyes which was always a bad sign.

Gibbs wondered why Tony wouldn't just tell him what was on his mind. But then he realized that the man must be in shock and probably didn't even know what to think. Just because he was a NCIS agent didn't mean that he could just brush an explosion that had killed a close friend off like it was nothing more than an unfortunate shower of rain on an otherwise pleasant and sunny day.

Prying now wouldn't help matters any. Gibbs would let him sleep a few hours, calm down as much as possible, and then he would ask again. Hopefully Tony would give him the whole story without Gibbs having to force him. Sometimes he hated that Tony didn't just buckle under his glare like the others did. It would have made things so much easier.

Tony was standing upright now but he swayed from side to side and his face had gone even paler, something Gibbs hadn't thought possible. The other NCIS agents Gibbs had called in on his way over had already arrived and were busy processing the scene. They'd known better than to approach Gibbs while he'd been talking with his partner. He caught the eye of one of them and nodded towards Tony. The agent cast the wobbling agent a fast look before he smiled and nodded, letting Gibbs know with that single movement that they had everything under control and that he should go and take his agent home.

Gibbs told himself that he would have to find out that agent's name. It wasn't often that silent communication worked so well.

He took Tony's elbow and cringed when the Italian startled at the touch. "Let's go."

Tony nodded numbly and followed him to his car. As soon as he was sitting on the passenger seat he slumped into the cushions and closed his eyes. They drove for a few minutes and Gibbs thought that the man had fallen asleep when Tony opened one blurry eye to look at him.

"There's a motel somewhere down the road. If you could take me-" he stopped when he saw the look Gibbs shot him. "What?"

"I'm not dumping you at some motel, DiNozzo."

"I haven't had time to look for an apartment yet."

Gibbs didn't even think about what he was about to say next. Deep down it had probably been the plan since he'd gotten that phone call earlier that night. "I have a spare room."

Tony was silent for a long time until he sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Gibbs was about to protest but bit his tongue before the words could escape. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he wasn't so sure that this was a good idea either. In fact this was probably the worst idea he'd ever had. If he'd let Tony stay with him for the next couple of days, there would be no escape. It could be a disaster.

But then again, maybe it wouldn't be. Maybe, hanging around together 24/7 was exactly what they needed to finally set things straight.

So, the decision wasn't really that hard to make.

"It's either that, or the hospital. You decide."

When Tony didn't answer he glanced to his right. The kid was fast asleep, his head resting on the window and his hands laying limply on his lap. He looked relaxed and peaceful and Gibbs felt a first real smile creep onto his lips since this rotten night had begun.

"Well," he drawled softly. "Guess it's my decision after all."

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_Tony is deaf._

_He is deaf and blind and it is so hot, so hot that he is convinced that every second now he will burst into flames._

_He's on his knees and his hands are groping for something on the floor. Tony doesn't even know what he's looking for; he just knows that his hands are patting the concrete under him frantically - up and down, left and right. Maybe he'll find the off-switch that will end this nightmare._

_Blurry eyes blink rapidly and slowly, ever so slowly, he's beginning to see again. At the same time Tony becomes aware of a high pitched humming in his ears. He could have wept, so grateful is he that he isn't blind and deaf after all. But then he begins to wonder why he'd have to be afraid of losing his hearing and his sight at all._

_What happened?_

_The last thing he remembers is Jim's face, their banter and how glad he'd been that his friend was back in town because now they could cruise the clubs together and pick up some nice girls and then... nothing. Nothing at all and that scares Tony more than the fact that he can't seem to get his hands to stop moving._

_And then, suddenly, his right hand finds something and he grabs it with all his might. Even in his confused state he is still able to discern that what he feels is skin. As his fingers grapple for more leverage he recognizes fingers and with a burst of relief he knows that he's holding a hand and that that hand has to belong to Jim. He squeezes it, noticing for the first time how slippery it is and how cold._

_He wants to ask Jim what has happened and how he can be so cool to the touch when it is so damn hot, but every time he opens his mouth he feels like he's inhaling smoke and dust and it sends him into a coughing fit, so he stops trying to speak. He'll wait until he can properly see and hear again and then he'll call Gibbs because Gibbs always knows what to do._

_So he sits there and clutches Jim's motionless hand in his and waits for the sounds and the lights to clear up so he can finally find out what's going on. There are still white blotches in his vision but his hearing is getting better and better and he's able to make out voices, people talking._

_No, not talking. Screaming. There are lots of people who're screaming and crying and Tony silently begs them to stop because he thinks he'll get physically sick if they don't. And then there are sirens coming closer and closer and then suddenly there's someone kneeling besides him. That person is just a blur on the edge of his vision but Tony feels one of their hands on his shoulder and the other tugging on the hand that holds Jim's, trying to pry them apart._

"_Come on son." The blur says. "You need to let go now."_

_But Tony just shakes his head and holds on tighter. He wants to say that he can't let go, that there is that indefinable fear that Jim will disappear if he does and that Jim is and will always be the only one who can tell him that the hell happened._

_But then his vision clears completely and he's not looking at the paramedic kneeling by his side but at the house where he's lived for the past few weeks. At the flames coming out of the hole where the front used to be._

_And then he remembers with cruel clarity the explosion that has ripped his hearing away and the white light that has blinded him because he'd looked right into it. And he remembers Jim. Jim turning around and at the same time turning the key in the lock of the door that isn't there anymore._

_Just like Jim isn't there anymore._

_Except that Tony still holds his hand in his, still squeezes those long fingers with his. He can still feel it and he looks down to make sure that he isn't imagining any of it, still hoping that Jim is there, grinning at him and telling him what goddamn lucky bastards they are._

_The paramedic tries to stop him, grabs his chin to turn his head away while still trying to pry Jim's hand from his, but Tony doesn't let him, doesn't even acknowledge him. His gaze is fixed on the hand, the bloody, slippery hand that he's been holding for the past ten minutes. The lifeless and cold hand that he is still squeezing and that doesn't belong to a body anymore because an explosion like that rips you apart, limb by limb, and scatters your remains over the whole place like the pieces of a puzzle._

_And suddenly Tony is screaming and screaming, no sound emerging because he has no breath left to make one, but he keeps screaming until—_

He finally woke up, breathing hard and hopelessly tangled in his bed sheets. For a moment he didn't know where he was and he panicked all over again until he remembered the drive over and how Gibbs had woken him up enough to get him up the stairs without having to carry him. He remembered how he'd fallen into the comfy bed and how Gibbs had taken his shoes off. And, he'd watched the older man undo his laces and felt oddly warm and happy when Gibbs tucked him in, ran his hand through his hair, and told him that everything would be okay now.

Well, the last part he may have imagined. He'd been pretty out of it.

Tony got out of bed. It was still dark outside and the clock said that it would be another hour till dawn, but he couldn't imagine going back to bed after that nightmare. For a moment he thought he could still feel the cold flesh on his fingertips before he forcefully shook his head. No use thinking about that anymore. Jim wouldn't want him to remember him like that.

Tony took a look around, noticing for the first time how 'homey' Gibbs house was. The walls were painted in a warm orange, the furniture looked like it was handmade and there was even a vase with fake flowers on the desk. He could see pictures on the walls, green pastures and still lifes. He didn't know what he'd expected but it certainly wasn't this. It all seemed very domestic and with a pang Tony realized that this had probably been Shannon's work. Gibbs wasn't the kind of man who put much thought into home decorations but maybe his wife had been that kind of woman.

The Italian sat there for a while, trying to imagine what it would be like to come home to a house that constantly reminded you of what you had lost and wondering how Gibbs could bear that, and why he hadn't moved out already. But maybe that's exactly the reason why; because he wanted to remember them, because he didn't want to lose another part of them.

This was really depressing and soon enough, his thoughts returned to the night's events, his friend Jim, and that godforsaken bomb.

Because no matter what he'd told Gibbs, he didn't believe for a second that it had been a gas explosion. At first he'd still hoped that this had been nothing more than an unfortunate accident. It was easier that way, believing that fate had played a cruel joke on them and not that a crazy psychopath had taken things too far.

For a time he'd managed to fool himself. The shock and the certainty that someone who played crude, childish pranks wouldn't resort to building bombs with the intention to kill, had made him miss the undeniable truth: there had been no smell of gas. He'd accompanied Jim to the door before he'd gone back to his car and while he'd been tired and ready to fall into his bed, he knew that he wouldn't have missed that. His sense of smell had always been particularly good.

So, if he hadn't smelled the gas, how could there have been a gas leak? And why did it only center around the front of the house? Steve had told him some mumbo jumbo, including temperatures and drafts, but Tony had known that the fire marshal didn't even believe what he was saying either.

No matter how much he wanted to convince himself of the opposite, Tony knew that the explosion had been no accident. He also knew that he finally had to come clean with Gibbs about what had happened the past few days, the taunts and messages and the vandalism of his locker.

He knew that Gibbs would do everything to find the psycho and stop him. Tony just hoped that Gibbs wouldn't decide to kill him first for keeping this a secret for so long.

"No time like the present." he mumbled and left the room in search of his boss.

It took him a while to find him. He'd searched the upstairs rooms before going down and looking through the kitchen. There was an empty beer bottle on the table but still no sign of Gibbs. He was wondering whether the man had gone out when he heard sounds coming from a door to his right. He went over and opened it a crack, surprised to find stairs behind it which lead down into a basement. The sounds were definitely coming from down there.

Tony didn't like basements very much but he didn't feel like waiting for Gibbs to come up. He swallowed his pride and took the steps, one at a time.

When he reached the last step, Tony was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't dark and dank like the basement in his old house, but bright and friendly. There were lights shining in every corner and there was even a small window near the ceiling. The air smelled of wood and sawdust and in the middle stood a...

"A boat?" Tony gasped, completely flabbergasted by what he was seeing. In the middle of the basement stood the hull of a freaking boat. And there was Gibbs, working on it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have a boat in your basement.

"Observant as always, DiNozzo." Gibbs smirked and briefly looked up before going back to his work.

Tony looked from the boat to the window and back to the boat again before looking at the door behind him. "How are you getting it out of here when it's done?"

"You'll figure it out when it comes to that."

"Me?" Tony asked and gingerly picked up a hand sander. It felt strange and awkward in his hands and he realized that he'd never used something like this before. In fact, he'd never done much work with his hands. The thought made his chest tighten a little for no reason he could discern and he was about to put the tool down again when Gibbs stopped him.

"Yeah you. So why don't you get over here and help me?"

Tony could already taste the 'No, thank you' on his tongue, but for some reason he swallowed it and got to work. He could only use one of his arms since the left one was pretty useless right now. He hadn't been doing it long before he could see that he was doing it wrong. It made him feel more and more inadequate by the second. But, just as he was ready to give up, he paused to watch Gibbs and decided to copy his movements as well as he could with only one arm. It was easier that way, and the proud smile and tiny nod Gibbs gave him let him know that he was doing it right which made him smile too.

They worked in silence for a while. The sun was starting to rise and shine through the small window. Tony took a break and watched the air around them that was pregnant with sawdust sparkle in the sun. It felt as if time stood still down here. Tony was convinced that he could have stayed like that for years, down here working on the boat with Gibbs. He glanced at the older man and wondered if this was what it felt like to spend time with someone important to you. His father had been important to him, but with him their time together had always felt strained and uncomfortable.

Tony averted his eyes and got to work again. He had to stop comparing Gibbs to his father all the time. It wasn't healthy and Gibbs probably wouldn't appreciate it very much.

As he sanded the boat, Tony felt the need to fill the silence. Although it hadn't been uncomfortable, he'd always felt more secure doing mindless chitchat.

"You know," he said and heard the exhaustion in his own voice. "If I have to get this out of here, I should be allowed to take it to the beach from time to time. I mean, there is no better chick magnet than your own boat."

Gibbs stopped working and took a seat on the bench right next to the boat, allowing Tony to do the same without appearing like a wimp. He'd never thought that sanding would be so tiring.

"I don't know." Gibbs drawled and there was a glint in his eyes that Tony didn't like. "I'd have to trust you with my boat. Do you think I can do that? Trust you?"

Tony stiffened. He knew that this wasn't about the boat anymore and he was beginning to wish that he'd stayed upstairs after all. "Of course you can. You know that."

Gibbs nodded. "I'm sure you think so, but trust is a double-edged sword. One side cannot work without the other."

Tony clenched his fist. "What are you saying? That you can't trust me if I don't trust you?"

"Well, do you?"

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, not sure why he wasn't answering. He did trust Gibbs so why couldn't he just say it? He'd already said it in that damn elevator after all. Wasn't once enough?

Suddenly he was angry. Why was the man asking him again when he already knew the answer to that question? Yes, he trusted him to have his back in the field. More than he'd trusted anyone else before, to be honest. But somehow he didn't think that Gibbs was talking about that kind of trust.

He could have told Gibbs that the man had come closer to gaining his complete trust than anyone else before, but he felt weary and oddly betrayed that Gibbs tried to use his battered condition to force that truth out of him.

"Where did this come from anyway?" he snapped instead. He tried to ignore the disappointed look on Gibbs face and just managed to resist the urge to throw the sander into the corner. That would have marked him as the bratty little kid that Gibbs apparently already found him to be.

Judging from Gibbs' expression, the older agent seemed to be struggling with the urge to throw something as well.

"Listen DiNozzo. If I can't trust you to follow my orders in the field, how do you suppose we can work together at all?"

For a second Tony honestly didn't know what the man was talking about but then he remembered. So much had happened in the last couple of hours that he'd forgotten about Gibbs' promise that they would talk about his 'disobedience' later.

"Really?" he asked, disbelief and resignation coloring his voice. "You really want to talk about this now?" _'Now that I've got no home anymore? Now that I've watched my best friend get torn into pieces?'_

Some of his thoughts must have been visible on his face because Gibbs' expression softened a little bit. "This can't happen again. We are a team, but I'm still your boss. We work together or not at all."

Tony tried to swallow around the bile that had gathered in his throat since this conversation had started.

Gibbs was giving him an out. Was more or less telling him that, if he couldn't follow his orders, couldn't trust him to know what he was doing, they couldn't be partners anymore. He was giving Tony the chance to back out should he feel unable to do those things - to rely on his partner and boss and to sometimes do things that he may not be agreeable with. This could be the end. Tony could tell Gibbs that he didn't work like that and that this had been a mistake.

And maybe it had been.

Ever since he'd come to DC, Tony had felt nothing but tense. He was tense every time he went to work. He was tense when he met Gibbs. He was tense when he went home and knew that he would have to go to work again the next day and meet Gibbs again.

If he was honest about it, Tony had to admit that this was by far the worst job he'd ever had. Not because the hours were unreasonable or because the colleagues were jerks, but simply because he constantly felt like a string that was about to snap. The pressure was awful, especially when being around Gibbs made him nervous. The fact that Gibbs had known him back then and that he was probably the only person in the whole world who might be able to figure out who the real Anthony DiNozzo was – it was enough to send cold shivers down his spine. He didn't want anyone to figure him out, least of all someone he worked with.

So for all intents and purposes, he should get the hell away from this man and this agency.

But even the thought of not working with Gibbs, of not seeing Abby and of not hearing another one of Ducky's weird tales rendered him immobile and speechless.

And scared, really scared, because he'd never felt like this about people before and for it to happen so fast and so thoroughly – he didn't know what to think about it.

But he knew that he would not snap, no matter how hard the pressure got and that he wanted to keep being Gibbs' partner. That was all he'd dreamed of in the past 15 years, his whole reason for being who and where he was right now. Tony wouldn't let his own fears destroy all he'd ever worked for.

After all, DiNozzos didn't quit – ever.

He met Gibbs' eyes and tried to convey his determination, his willingness to try and do better. "We work together."

Gibbs was silent for a long time, simply staring at him and gauging his honesty. Tony refused to fidget or look away. He could do this. He could be the partner that Gibbs needed, just like Gibbs was the boss he'd always needed.

Suddenly Gibbs was smiling at him, that smirk that told you that he was pleased with you and that you were maybe not quite as hopeless as he'd thought you'd be. "Good. Let's start with that after next week then."

"After next week?"

Gibbs' smirk got smugger. "Yes. You are on desk duty for the next week. Consider it your punishment."

Tony pouted. He'd just finally gotten into the field after a week of boredom and Gibbs wanted to ban him from the exciting stuff yet again? Another week of old files and dust? That was so unfair.

He was about to voice his protests, loudly, but then he jarred his arm causing him to pause when the pain hit him. The gash wasn't deep but pretty painful. That's when it occurred to him that there was no chance that Morrow would let him work with those injuries anyway. Gibbs' punishment wasn't really a punishment because either way he'd have to stay at his desk for at least a week and Gibbs had to know that.

Tony grinned. Yes, Gibbs was definitely the boss he'd always needed.

"Sure Bossman, no problem."

The older man didn't grin back and Tony soon found out why.

"Tell me again about that explosion. Was there anything unusual about it?"

The Italian sighed and looked towards the window. He could see that the sun was completely up now. It was time to tell his boss about the psycho who apparently had a problem with him and about his concerns that the explosion could have been his latest villainous deed.

Gibbs would be furious that he'd kept this a secret so long but he owed Jim that he told the truth. And he owed the bastard that had killed his friend a lifetime in prison.

But that was another thought for another day.

Tony was just about to open his mouth when Gibbs mobile phone rang. The former Marine looked like he wanted to let it go to voice mail but then remembered that Steve was supposed to call.

He accepted the call but his eyes told Tony that the conversation wasn't over yet.

"Hey Agent Gibbs." Steve's voice drifted through the basement. Gibbs had put him on speakers so Tony could hear him too. "One of those agents gave me your number. I thought you should hear the news from me personally."

"What have you got?"

"As soon as the sun came up we were able to see a lot more of the destruction. I'm sorry to say this Sir, but the explosion was no accident."

Tony grew pale and gripped the bench on which he was still sitting. He'd already known it of course but hearing the fire marshal confirm his suspicions was another matter entirely.

Gibbs' eyes didn't leave him and Tony was mortified to see, besides the worry, a dawning realization in them. "Are you sure?"

Steve sounded offended. "Of course I am. We found small parts of a bomb scattered among the debris. The culprit probably thought that the bomb would destroy every trace of its own existence upon exploding, but he made the mistake of using non-flammable components. An amateur, obviously."

"Obviously." Gibbs repeated tonelessly, still looking at the shaking form of his partner. "Anything else?"

"We're good, but not that good. I'll try to determine what kind of explosive was used. We already sent some of the parts to your lab for printing. I'll call you when I know more."

"Good." Gibbs said and hung up without another word. His gaze was fixed on Tony who stared at the floor as if it held the secrets of the universe. His shoulders were quivering and his hands had a white knuckled grip on the bench. The sight made Gibbs want to back off and give the man some space but he decided against that idea. Something was going on. Tony knew something, and Gibbs was determined to find out what.

This was too important. This was too huge. Someone had planted a bomb in that house meant to kill anyone who entered it through the front door. And since Nixon hadn't been expected back for a couple more weeks, that only left Tony as the true target.

Tony had been meant to die last night and only dumb luck had saved him.

Gibbs didn't even want to think about that. Didn't even want to imagine getting that phone call and hearing about Tony's death instead of Nixon's.

Someone had tried to kill his agent and that someone was going to regret the day he was born when Gibbs was through with him.

But first he'd have to get the whole story.

"Spill." he barked, not proud when Tony flinched away from his tone.

"Boss," Tony mumbled and when he looked up there was so much apprehension in his gaze that Gibbs just knew that it was going to be a long day. "There are some things I haven't told you yet."

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TBC

Yeah, so Nixon's return originally wasn't planned at all but then a lot of readers asked for it and I got the idea for this, namely his death... not really what anyone wanted I guess...

Next time we'll FINALLY have 'the talk'. Until then, tell me what you thought about this chapter.

**Btw**, is it blackmailing if I tell you that tomorrow is my 23nd birthday and that one of my birthday wishes is to get (at least) my 400th review for this story? No, right? *glances around*


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. Only dream about it.

**A/N:** Hey everyone. I feel really bad for letting you wait so long after you fulfilled my birthday wish. Thank you all for that, it really made my day and it feels great to feel so appreciated. Thank you very much. I hope this chapter is to your liking and the lenght makes up (at least a little bit) for the long wait.

I tried to make them as much in character as I could despite the emotional topic, hope I managed that. Tell me if I did, tell me if I didn't. I also explained - sort of - why "Gibbs finding out about the abuse in the first story and confronting DiNozzo Sr" really wasn't an option for me or for the story. I hpoe you can follow and understand my reasoning.

A shout out to my beta, **AZGirl**, for doing once again an awesome job. Thanks so much.

On with the story.

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The Days After the Day

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Chapter 13

Morning had turned into noon by the time Tony stopped talking. His mouth was dry by then and his arm was killing him. The paramedics had given him some painkillers just in case and although Tony had told himself that he wouldn't take them, no matter how bad it got, the idea of something that would take the edge away sounded pretty good right now. On top of the ache in his arm, a headache had wormed its way into his skull and was apparently doing a step dance in there now.

The pills were in 'his' room though, and Tony doubted that the man in front of him would let him out of his sight for even one second, even if it was in his own home. Gibbs probably expected him to run upstairs, lock himself into the bathroom, and refuse to come out like some little kid that knew he had done something wrong and was afraid of facing the consequences. It wasn't as if he could just sit in that room and wait for Hurricane Gibbs to blow over.

Tony was embarrassed to realize how tempting that sounded.

They had moved their conversation into the kitchen hours ago, and as he desperately tried to avoid Gibbs' burning gaze, Tony realized that it was a rather a nice kitchen. Big and bright, with just the right amount of clutter to make it look lived in. He was especially intrigued with the smooth, wooden tabletop. He ran his right hand over it and wondered what kind of wood it was and whether Gibbs had made it himself. The man was building a boat in his basement so a table was certainly no challenge for him. Maybe he should ask?

Tony stared at the tabletop for several more minutes while the silence between them grew heavy. He kept tracing the patterns in the wood, looking for all the world like an antique dealer inspecting a fine piece of art. But, you could only pretend so long to be fascinated by a totally dull and _not_ fascinating table before someone called you on the act – especially if your counterpart was named Gibbs and would never buy it in the first place.

"Let me get this straight," Gibbs said in a voice so void of emotions that it could have come straight from the grave. "Someone has been sending you threatening letters and then put red paint in your locker to make it look as if it had been drenched in blood. Am I right so far?"

Tony shrugged. "Pretty much."

"And you decided to keep this to yourself and not report it. At least you didn't tell me and I know you'd never go to Morrow with this-" he trailed off. Tony shrugged again and Gibbs sighed. "I thought not. Now that that's clear there is only one question left to be answered."

Tony shifted in his seat. He didn't like this calm Gibbs. That was scarier than any yelling and reprimanding could have been. "What's that?"

The older agent stared him straight in the eyes. "Why?"

Tony blinked. "Why what?"

It was the first time Gibbs had lost his calm demeanor. His eyes narrowed as his lips thinned and the hands that rested on the table tightened into fists until the knuckles turned white. He looked ready to jump over the table and throttle his young partner and Tony pushed his chair a bit farther away in reaction. It was stupid of course, Gibbs wouldn't hurt him, but he also knew that the man had a serious lack of patience when it came to stupidity. Not that Tony actively tried to tick him off or be stupid. He really didn't know what Gibbs meant. Why would someone target him? Why is this person escalating from stupid pranks to murder? What did Gibbs want to know?

"Why DiNozzo," Gibbs growled and leaned forward, "didn't you tell me?"

Tony swallowed but pretended not to notice the hidden meaning, the hidden accusation. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

"Why not when it started?"

Tony shrugged and averted his eyes. He had asked himself the same question over the past couple of hours. It would have been the logical thing to do; telling Gibbs. The man was his boss and even if he didn't want to go to him with his problems, Tony should have at least reported the incident to Morrow. Whoever this guy was, he was obviously nuts and if this lunatic was an agent, then his fellow agents were in danger when they had someone as unstable as that as backup.

Being honest with himself wasn't a trait that Tony could claim, but sometimes the self-deceit just didn't work out and he had to accept the ugly truth.

He hadn't told Gibbs because he'd been embarrassed. Here he was, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, who had taken care of himself all his life, who'd been handpicked by the – in Tony's eyes – best agent NCIS had to offer and he couldn't even keep one lousy jerk from terrorizing him with stupid letters and paint bombs. Running to his boss for help, the boss he wanted to so badly impress would have given the word 'pathetic' a whole new meaning.

"I had everything under control."

"You mean you thought you had?"

Tony winced. Of course he'd thought he had everything under control. If he'd truly had everything under control like he'd claimed, Jim would still be alive. Tony clenched his fists under the table. Sometimes Gibbs' no nonsense approach could be unbelievably cruel.

"There were no indicators to think that this was anything more than a case of jealousy that would run itself out. I've had my fair share of bullies and they always stop sooner or later if you just ignore them."

"But this one didn't stop." Gibbs sneered. "They killed your best friend."

Tony knew that it was just an idiom but he was pretty sure that he really had _seen red_ just a second ago. He jumped up from his seat and just barely avoided knocking the table over. "God damn it! Could you stop throwing things in my face that I already know?"

Gibbs stayed seated and calm, a fact that annoyed Tony even more. "Do you really know? Do you? Are you really aware of the consequences your behavior has caused?"

Tony felt like crying, something he hadn't done since he was 12 years old and his father told him that he was no longer his son. "I know okay! Believe me, I know!" He thought he could still feel Jim's cold hand in his, could still feel the blood under his fingernails that had needed several minutes to scrub it away without a trace.

Of course he knew.

He started pacing the kitchen and Gibbs watched his every move with concerned eyes. "Good. And now tell me why we didn't have this conversation days earlier when it could still have done some good."

Tony stopped at the sink and stared out of the window above it. "I can take care of myself."

"You obviously can't."

Tony whirled around and stared at his boss. People had said a lot of things about him, but never had anyone implied that he couldn't take care of himself. To him, Gibbs' eyes looked cold and Tony was beginning to wonder whether he had irrevocably screwed up. Maybe he had finally pushed the man so far away that no apologizing would bring him back. The thought chilled him to the bones but he couldn't bring himself to take the first step. Doing that would be like admitting defeat, admitting that he was weak and really couldn't take care of himself – he just couldn't do that. Pride could be an ugly thing, if you thought about it.

"I have taken care of myself all my life. I don't need your help with that." he said, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms. His body language screamed that he was proud of that fact and he really was. Even if it was hard and sometimes even a bit lonely - being alone all the time, no one taking care of you but yourself - he always felt a tinge of satisfaction every time he thought about his independence.

And then something weird happened. Gibbs' shoulders relaxed and the scowl lessened noticeably. He unclenched his fists and put his hands flat on the table. And, suddenly, Tony found himself the recipient of an intense stare from eyes that were filled with an emotion that he couldn't quite place. It was a startling transformation and it took Tony a moment to register Gibbs' next words.

"Is that why you didn't tell me what was going on back then either?"

At first, Tony didn't know what he was talking about. Hadn't he just explained why? But then the words hit him - 'back then' – and he knew that his boss wasn't talking about 'back then' last week but more thanlikely 'back then' 15 years ago.

Tony's mouth felt like it was filled with ash and he desperately wanted a beer, but Gibbs would definitely veto that because he should drink alcohol with a concussion. So instead he got himself a glass of water, and kept his head down to hide the fact how pale he had become. He knew that he was stalling and Gibbs probably knew it too but he needed those precious seconds.

Intellectually, Tony knew that he couldn't escape this conversation short of hightailing it out the kitchen door. But emotionally speaking, he wasn't ready for this and contemplated how far he could get before Gibbs caught up to him.

Gibbs apparently was tired of waiting. "Well?"

Tony was panicking. Gibbs already knew a lot without having been told. The former Marine didn't necessarily need his confession, but for some reason he apparently wanted to hear it out of Tony's own mouth nonetheless. They were both aware of the elephant in the room, the secret that wasn't a secret anymore. This was just the last step. Or maybe the first, Tony wasn't sure. No matter what it was, Tony just needed to say the words and the spell that trapped the two of them in this endless circle of avoidance and insecurity would break and fall away entirely, leaving the two of them with dozens of new possible paths which their partnership - their friendship - could go.

But that was the problem. It was bad enough that Gibbs knew what his childhood had been like but Tony hadn't said the words in what seemed like forever. Everyone he'd ever told had either betrayed him or met their fate at his father's hands. The Italian knew that Gibbs wouldn't betray him and he was pretty sure that, given the fact that Tony was an adult now, he wouldn't confront his father with social services. His fears were unfounded and absurd but he just couldn't shake them off.

And on top of that, he really wasn't so sure he wanted to travel this new path with his boss. Since he'd never told anyone this close to him, he didn't know what would happen along the way. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to deal with an unknown future or his supposed trust issues which, if you had asked him, didn't exist anyway.

So he did what he did best.

"What do you mean?"

Gibbs' eyebrows twitched but his face still held that gentle expression. He'd probably expected the young man to obfuscate. "You know what I mean."

Tony took a sip of his water. "I don't." He was being stupid. Worse, he was being a coward. But maybe he could force Gibbs to say the words so that he wouldn't have to. That would be a little bit better. A little bit.

Gibbs sighed and for a moment he looked so weary, Tony almost felt bad for him. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

'Yes, please' Tony wanted to say. 'Don't make me say it. Don't make me admit what a wretched bastard my father is and how weak I am that it still bothers me that I can't just laugh it off and get on with my life. Make it easier for me.'

"You don't have to do anything. If you ask me, there is nothing to talk about."

The former Marine's eyes narrowed. Tony had his back to him but he could see Gibbs' reflection in the window. He just hoped that Gibbs couldn't see his too, because he didn't like the expression he was wearing right now. It was so 'not-Tony', as Abby would put it.

"So we don't have to talk about the fact that you were abused by your father?"

Tony had hoped for Gibbs to take the lead, but now that his prayers had been answered, he still flinched and almost dropped the glass of water he'd been holding. He hadn't expected it to happen so sudden or for Gibbs to be so blunt. Actually hearing the word 'abused' was more shocking than he'd anticipated. He'd always thought of himself as being someone that had been 'hurt' by his father, or 'neglected'.

Abused was practically the same thing but it still sounded so much worse.

Tony swallowed hard. He couldn't say 'yes'. He couldn't break down and pour his heart out. But he also couldn't deny it. They were well past that point. And even if he could have, it wouldn't have felt right to lie to Gibbs. Something about the man compelled you to tell the truth. And he couldn't shake the feeling that, instead of being angry, Gibbs would be hurt and disappointed. The man didn't deserve that.

"It happened a long time ago boss." he said. He wanted to sound strong and uncaring but that was pretty hard if you couldn't even bring yourself to raise your voice above a whisper. "Let's leave it in the past where it belongs."

"I can't do that." Gibbs sounded strange and Tony turned his head a little to be able to see him more clearly. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the older man looked haunted. "I need you to tell me why you didn't confide in me when we were at the hospital."

"Why is this so important to you? I just didn't, let's leave it at that, okay?"

Tony didn't want to tell him that he'd done it to protect Gibbs and his new family. To a twelve year old that reason had sounded like a brilliant idea, but to the adult it just sounded silly and haughty. As if a grown man and special agent needed a little boy to protect him. What a joke!

"I could have helped you!" Gibbs roared and jumped up from his seat. Tony took a step back and Gibbs must have seen something in his face because he toned it down a bit. "If you had told me I could have done something. You wouldn't have suffered even more or been sent to military school, cast aside like yesterday's trash."

That stung so hard, Tony almost felt it like a physical blow. He slammed his glass down and stormed out of the kitchen. Gibbs followed close by but he tried to ignore the man as he searched for his shoes.

"Tony!" Gibbs stopped him by grabbing his arm and Tony tried to wrench it away without much success.

"What are you trying to tell me Gibbs?" he asked through clenched teeth. "That it's my fault this happened to me?"

The former Marine looked surprised and then grimaced. "You know I didn't..."

"It sure sounded like you did." He wanted out of here. He didn't want to listen to Gibbs any longer. It had taken him years to accept that it wasn't his fault that his father hated him, that he meant nothing more to him than 'yesterday's trash', but that acceptance was a brittle thing. It would take only one tiny push from someone that actually mattered to him to break it and while he knew that Gibbs wouldn't do it consciously, he feared that it may happen anyway if he stayed in this house one second longer. He couldn't believe how much strain this conversation was putting on him.

Gibbs steered his resisting body into the living room and forced him to sit down on the couch. "That's not what I meant. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me. I asked you if something was wrong."

"Be realistic Gibbs." Normally Tony would be horrified by his rude tone, but this situation was anything but normal. "I barely knew you. You were just another guy that tried to help without understanding what he was getting into."

"Is that it?" Gibbs took a seat on the couch table so he could look Tony in the eye. "Were you afraid I wouldn't be able to handle myself against your father?"

Tony didn't answer. He just kept on staring at the floor and silently willed this conversation to an end.

"I'm not blaming you." Gibbs said after a long pause. "I suspected that something wasn't right between you and your father and I shouldn't have let it go like that."

Tony didn't look up but his hunched shoulders quivered ever so slightly. He tried to imagine how it might have been if he had told Gibbs the truth fifteen years ago. Tried imagining what kind of man he would be today.

He couldn't. And that was sad for so many reasons that Tony didn't even try to list them.

"You had your own family."

"That's no excuse."

Gibbs sounded weary. This was the first time Tony realized that the agent probably blamed himself for not acting on his instincts. Tony didn't want Gibbs to blame himself. It had taken him a long time to stop with the self-loathing. He didn't want the only man who ever thought him worth anything to feel the same. He had to take that guilt he could see in Gibbs' eyes away before it could take root. Even if this topic was disturbing him so much that it made his teeth ache and his toenails curl into themselves, he need to keep talking. Faintly he realized that this was the longest conversation he'd ever had about his father.

"Even if you had stuck to your guns, I wouldn't have told you anything." he said, staring Gibbs straight in the eyes to convey how serious he was. "Nothing you could have done would have made me tell you anything, and my father would have destroyed you if you had tried to help me anyway."

"Your father is not God, DiNozzo. I could have dealt with him."

"I had this teacher once." Tony mumbled. "She was a lot like you. If children were involved, she was like a bulldog with a bone. One day she actually managed to make me confess the... well, what my father did to me. She confronted him. And she lost."

Tony's voice broke on the last word. It still hurt thinking about Mrs. Briggs, the nice lady who'd been so sure that she could help the little family. She'd found out about the abuse and being the kind of woman who'd always looked for the good in people she'd assumed that the death of Tony's mother had simply rattled the man and that professional help would bring father and son together again. Maybe she'd even been right. His father's behavior _had_ gotten worse after his wife's death.

But DiNozzos didn't accept help and if she'd known that, then maybe Mrs. Briggs would have gone to social services instead of trying to speak with the older DiNozzo first.

"What happened?"

"She's dead. He didn't kill her." he assured him when he saw the look on Gibbs' face. "He just made sure that living didn't seem to be too appealing to her anymore."

He had learned about her death just a few years earlier when he'd started to earn his own money. Tony had searched for her so he could thank her and maybe help her out a little should the money be tight, but instead he'd only found an old news article that said that she'd hanged herself years earlier and a disgustingly small tombstone bearing her name and wilting, old flowers in front of it.

That had been the first time that he'd truly hated his father.

"You see?" he continued. "My father may not be a God, but he would have done the same to you. You'd just become a father. You could have tortured me with vegetarian pizza and I still wouldn't have told you anything."

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

"It wasn't your job to protect me."

"You know Gibbs, maybe I hadn't known you all that well back then, but one thing was pretty obvious to me even then."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile on his lips. "And that would be?"

"You are a stubborn bastard." Tony said without malice and with a trace of fondness in his voice. "Had I told you about my father, you would have left no stone unturned in your quest to 'save me'. He would have threatened you and your family and you still would have fought him. You wouldn't have accepted that there was someone stronger than you, someone with more resources and more friends in higher places than you. He would have destroyed your career and your good reputation and you still would have thought that good was going to win in the end. That _you_ would win in the end. But you wouldn't have because that's not how it works when DiNozzo Sr. is involved. Then he would have gone from destroying you to destroying your family and maybe then you finally would have realized that you can't win this fight. But by then it would have been too late anyway."

Tony had never before talked so openly about the kind of man his father was or about the fear that had kept him from confining in Gibbs.

His boss looked sick but not dubious or disbelieving which told Tony that he wasn't as ignorant to his past shortcomings as he'd pretended to be.

Gibbs was older now, you could even say wiser. Maybe being who he was today, he would have a chance to defend himself against DiNozzo Sr.'s scheming and threats. But back then he wasn't very high up on the food chain yet. He'd just gotten his first team and he was still trying to pay off the mortgage on the house. Not forgetting the fact that he was the father of a small daughter. The Gibbs fifteen years ago had presented too many opportunities for an attack.

Although it felt like a sacrilege to think of Gibbs as being vulnerable, that's exactly what he'd been in that hospital room 15 years ago. Husband, new father and way too convinced that the good would always triumph over the bad. He wouldn't have stood a chance against the mighty DiNozzo Senior. That hadn't been the tragic thing, though. The tragic thing had been, that he wouldn't have possessed enough self-preservation to realize that in time.

Tony could see that Gibbs knew everything he'd said to be true. He obviously didn't like it, but he understood.

Gibbs moved from the table to the couch and let himself fall into the cushions beside his young partner. There was still a shadow of something dark in his eyes, telling Tony that Gibbs was still not quite ready to let his guilt go, but he was also smirking. The knot in Tony's stomach loosened a little.

"A stubborn bastard, huh?"

Tony smiled tiredly and took a deep breath. He knew that this topic wasn't closed yet, that the older agent still had a lot of questions to which he expected answers. But this wasn't something you check off in one setting. This had been a beginning, the first step after all, and Gibbs would make sure that it wouldn't be last one either. The Italian was still unsure whether that was something to be happy about, but for now he was simply relieved that Gibbs had apparently decided that it was enough for today.

"You know it's true."

Gibbs put his hand on his shoulder and kept it there for several minutes. It wasn't a hug by any means, but both men were aware of the warmth of the other and the support and affection that single hand conveyed.

And that was enough.

"Yeah, it is."

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Gibbs stood in the doorway and watched his sleeping agent with a bittersweet smile. They had talked a bit more about the man that was apparently trying to kill the Italian. They had swapped theories and tried to think of someone who might have a grudge against DiNozzo. Tony had even called Michael Boston and asked him to send him copies of some of their old cases to see whether anyone Tony had put behind bars had been released on parole in the last few months. In the end they hadn't managed to determine anything concrete and decided to wait for the copies and any reports from the agents working the bomb site.

Gibbs had wondered whether it was safe to ask a bit more about Tony's father. He still knew disappointingly little. In retrospect, it felt like they had talked more about Gibbs' misplaced guilt than the abuse itself. That Tony had been hit was a given, but had the abuse only been physical? Mental abuse seemed likely too, but what about sexual abuse? Gibbs couldn't imagine DiNozzo Sr. lusting after his son who he had deemed worthless, but rape was rarely about desire and more about power. And if there had ever been someone who was craving power over those weaker than him, it was DiNozzo Sr.

As soon as the idea had taken root, Gibbs had been desperate to ask, to hear that he was wrong and that Tony had at least escaped that horror. But his agent had been tired and Gibbs had promised himself that he would leave it alone for today, give him the time he needed to compose himself. They would have the whole weekend to talk this out and Gibbs was determined to seize that chance. He would have to be careful. Tony had been skittish and jumpy during the whole talk, easily angered and flighty. At one point, the young Italian had looked like the flight part of the fight-or-flight response had won, and Gibbs had readied himself to go after him if Tony had decided to bolt from the house. This was a dangerous territory he was about to enter, but Gibbs was confident that he could do it.

Starting out was always the hardest, so he'd decided that the rest could wait for tomorrow. He had told Tony to take a nap. The young man had protested of course but within minutes he'd more or less passed out on the couch and was now snoring softly.

Tony looked relaxed in his sleep, showing not a trace of the tension that had run through his body earlier that day.

Gibbs had to admit that he was pretty tired himself, but he didn't trust himself to sleep as long as Tony was also sleeping and unprotected. Someone out there was trying to kill him, and Gibbs wasn't about to leave the young man alone until they caught whoever it was.

As if on cue, the door burst open. Thankfully it wasn't a killer that had invaded his home, but a frantic Goth with balloons and a big teddy bear in her arms.

"Where is he?" Abby squeaked. "Where is my hot, injured mini agent?"

Gibbs held a finger to his lips and pointed with the other hand into the living room. "He's sleeping Abs." He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Thank you for coming."

Abby shot him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? You call me to tell me that he was injured in an explosion and ask me to keep an eye on him while you do your Gibbs-thing and you didn't think I'd come? Well mister, you can be happy that he's sleeping because otherwise I'd rip you a new one for only telling me about this now."

Gibbs merely smiled. It always amused him when Abby threatened him given the fact that they both knew that she would never hurt him.

She gave him a dirty look when she saw his smile but then proceeded to shoo him away and tiptoed into the living room. Gibbs stayed a while to watch them and couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at the conversation that followed.

Tony's sleep had been disturbed a bit from all the noises but was still pretty out of it. His eyes blinked blearily before they settled on Abby and her balloons.

"Who's birthday s'it?"

"They are for you sweetheart."

Tony scrunched up his nose. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

"No," Abby drawled and tied the balloons to one leg of the couch table so they would hover directly above Tony. "But you are sick and sick people get balloons. And teddy bears."

Tony stared at the bear but the balloons apparently baffled his sleep ridden mind a bit more than the plush toy. "It says on them 'Happy 3rd Birthday'."

The Goth blushed and sat on the edge of the couch, forcing Tony to scoot back a little. "Yeah, well, I couldn't find one that said 'Congratulations! You survived an explosion!' which is a pretty big market niche if you ask me. I mean, I'm sure there are lots of people who survive explosions and would enjoy a balloon afterward."

Tony had closed his eyes again but there was a sleepy smile on his lips. "I don't think there are lots of people who do that, Abby."

"More often than you'd think. They could go with the matching get well cards. You know, say something like 'It's a blast knowing you' or 'The news of your survival blew us away'."

"Isn't that a bit morbid?"

"Or 'Get well soon. Love, the girl you banged last night.'.

"Abby!"

"What?"

"I'm trying to sleep here. And the last one wasn't funny."

"No?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay. Well, how about this one-"

Gibbs left the two bantering adolescents alone, safe in the knowledge that no matter what the future may hold, as long as he had those two in his life, everything was going to be fine.

TBC

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Cheesy ending but I think it was needed after all that heavy angst. A bit Tony/Abby sibling love for your heart.

Remember Mrs. Briggs? Poor lady. It seems I kill all my OC's sooner or later... although I don't know if you could count her as an actual OC, since I only mentioned her in passing.

On a side note, I think it's necessary to warn you - and to spare me the appalled reviews - that Tony was NOT raped by his father. It's just something worried papabear Gibbs wonders about, not something that will prove true in the end.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Nothings mine

**A/N:** I'M SOOOOO SORRY! Really, words cannot convey how sorry I am for letting you hang like this! First, real life got in the way, and then I had to deal with massive writers block. I didn't exactly overcome it yet, it's more like I climbed it for days just to be able to peek over it for a second.

But maybe you won't kill me when I tell you that I got the stomach flu of the century just a few days after I finished the chapter. I've never felt so horrible in my life. Maybe that's karma, huh?

Anyway, here is the new chapter. Lots of hurt/comfort in this one.

Thanks to **AZGirl** for her wonderful work on this despite the stressfull thanksgiving time.

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Chapter 14

Usually, Tony spent Monday mornings grumbling about the too short weekend, begrudging the fact that he hadn't been able to watch as many movies as he'd wanted and dreaming about the many women he'd managed to flirt with. Monday mornings were a dreadful affair for the young bachelor. He usually didn't look forward to another long week of demanding work after another too short weekend.

Usually.

This Monday morning however, the young agent had a bounce in his steps and a relieved grin on his face as he entered the NCIS building. The grin on his face and the happy countenance though clashed with the large bags under his eyes and the arm held rigidly by his side. It was still bothering him quite badly, despite the pain killers he had been forced to take over the weekend. His suit was flawless, as usual, but the man within it didn't quite fool even the most casual observer. The broad shoulders were hunched as if bracing for a storm and the red-rimmed eyes were flickering all over the place, not resting anywhere for longer than a second. This wasn't a man who had come back to work after a restful couple of days.

In fact, Tony would tell anyone who'd listen that this had been the worst weekend of his life.

As he'd predicted, the topic of his past hadn't been over after the first tentative breaching of the issue Friday night. Gibbs had barely given him enough time to get his act back together before he'd confronted him again, demanding details and explanations. Tony had been even more difficult about the matter than before and refused to tell Gibbs any more. After the initial shock of that he had confided in someone had passed, Tony's insecurities and reluctance to talk about it had slammed back full-force and he'd found himself tight-lipped and, when Gibbs didn't let up, even aggressive about the whole thing. There had been more than one situation where Gibbs had to run after a furious Tony and drag the man back into the house. One time Tony had even made it as far as the corner and almost gotten into the taxi that he'd called with his cell before Gibbs had caught up with him.

If being dragged back by his arm like a five-year-old runaway hadn't been humiliating enough, some of Gibbs' questions certainly had been. Tony's face was still glowing red when he thought about Gibbs' careful inquiries about the nature of the abuse. It had taken Tony three hours and two temper tantrums – one of which had involved a broken glass and an upturned chair, much to Tony's embarrassment afterwards - to confess that there had been physical abuse in the form of whippings with his father's belt and also being hit with other convenient household items. It had taken him even longer to admit that being locked in the cold, dark basement and told him how worthless he was had been a daily occurrence as well.

When Gibbs still hadn't stopped with the odd questions it had taken Tony way too long to realize that his mentor was wondering about sexual abuse as well. He still shuddered when he thought about the awkward conversation that had followed. A simple outraged 'No' hadn't been able to convey how disgusted the idea of his father doing 'that' to him had left him. Or how very, very glad he was that his father had at least spared him this kind of humiliation. Thank God for small mercies.

The weekend had drained him, emotionally and physically, so despite his easy gait and the big grin on his face he felt anything but rested. The smile faltered when he realized that work would only be a short reprieve since Gibbs wouldn't let him move into a motel anytime soon. In a couple of hours he would have to get into that car again and the older agent would drive him back home and who knows what else Gibbs would ask of him then. Would he want an actual report of the worst memories of Tony's life? Would he sit him down and ask him what kind of brand his father liked to drink when he started hitting him? What else would he want to know?

Tony glared at Gibbs' back now, cursing him for all the sleepless nights he'd had and those still to come. His only consolation was that Gibbs looked as wretched as he felt: hunched shoulders and dark bags under his eyes that spoke of his own sleepless nights. In fact, when Tony had lay in his bed at night, not able – and sometimes not willing - to sleep, he had been able to hear the man moving around downstairs. It had sounded as if he had walked up and down the hallways and sometimes there had been the sound of the liquor cabinet opening and closing. Tony thought Gibbs had been pouring himself a drink, but every time he looked inside the cabinet during the day, he would discover that not one drop was missing. When he'd discovered that, images of the man standing on front of the cabinet had filled Tony's mind, fingering the bottles and desperate for a drink, but also aware of the young man upstairs who probably wouldn't react all that well to a drunken and angry man.

This whole business wasn't only hard on Tony, and somehow the Italian couldn't help but feel sadistically pleased about that.

It was wrong, he knew that. He didn't understand this sudden resentment for Gibbs when the man was only trying to help. And maybe resentment wasn't quite the right word for it. It felt a lot like it, but even in the midst of his worst depression, Tony was quite convinced that he could never resent Gibbs for anything.

But whatever it was that he felt around Gibbs right now, it wasn't a nice or even grateful emotion.

The man had forced him to live through the worst moments of his life. Had taken him on an emotional roller-coaster, not even allowing him to get out of the house to collect his thoughts in peace. No, the only reprieve he'd been allowed was to work on that boat when things got too much, but not even then would Gibbs leave him alone. They had worked in stony silence, and even though the repetitive movements and the silence had really proven to calm Tony's frayed thoughts after a while, he'd always been painfully aware of Gibbs' eyes on him and the promise in them that once they were upstairs again, the emotional puking fest would continue. That's how it had felt to Tony after a while: puking. You may feel grateful and relieved while doing it and getting the crap out of your system, but afterward you didn't feel better at all but even worse.

Hollow.

No, what Tony felt about his boss right now wasn't nice at all, but he was willing to put this behind him and forget it, no matter how hard it would be. You had to forget and move on if you wanted to get somewhere in this life and he was sure that Gibbs' opinion of him as an agent, especially after the debacle with Tommy, wouldn't improve anytime soon as long as they kept mulling over his less than stellar childhood.

The problem was that he didn't think Gibbs was quite as ready to move on as Tony was. The man had looked positively livid when Tony had told him about his father's idea of discipline. He'd looked ready to break something, preferably a multimillionaire's neck.

Tony chanced another glance at his boss just in time to catch those icy blue eyes when Gibbs looked over his shoulder to say something. The moment their eyes met Gibbs' words seemed to get stuck in his throat and after a second of expectant silence, he turned back around and continued his way to the elevator.

Tony stared at his shoes and followed. Not for the first time he wished that he'd never given in to Gibbs' prodding. Things were so awkward between them now. They hadn't spoken one word since getting into the car that morning. Given the fact that they had done nothing but talk the whole weekend lent this current silence between them an ominous feeling of foreboding. Almost as if, now that the facts were on the table, they didn't have anything to talk about anymore.

Tony hated it.

They entered the elevator and Tony almost smiled when not even ten seconds after the doors closed Gibbs pushed the emergency button, bringing the cab to a grinding halt.

Gibbs watched him for a second and Tony tried not to show how relieved he was when the older man finally broke the silence.

"You okay?"

Tony shot him a look that clearly said 'What do you think?' but what tumbled out of his mouth was, "I'm fine."

Gibbs watched him more openly now. His hand ran though his hair and Tony recognized it for the sign it was. His boss was just as out of his depth as Tony was. It was kind of soothing to know that you weren't the only one having a minor panic attack in your head.

"What you told me, during the weekend, it will never leave that house. You know that, right?"

Tony nodded. He wondered how much longer they would refer to it as "The Weekend" in their heads. Like some kind of disastrous event someone wrote a book about. Now, that was a funny thought. Maybe they would even make it into a movie. Tony wondered who would play his part and couldn't help but smile as the names of all the actors who would be able to portray the awesomeness that was Anthony DiNozzo ran through his head.

"Tony?"

"Yes I know." Tony sighed. Of course he knew that Gibbs would never betray his trust like that. If nothing else, he'd known from the start that his secrets were safe with the former Marine. That knowledge didn't make any of this any easier though.

"You should really think about what I told you."

"I am thinking." Tony assured. "Been doing nothing else." he added under his breath. Of course he was thinking about Gibbs' words, his advice and encouragement to confront his father and maybe even press charges against the man. But thinking about it was the only luxury he allowed himself.

Gibbs looked doubtful, but knew that pushing things wouldn't get him anywhere. He set the cab back into motion and Tony finally relaxed. He wasn't opposed to these kinds of meetings but right now he'd rather not be trapped with Gibbs in a small room any longer than he strictly had to.

They arrived at the floor where the bullpen was but before Tony could get off, Gibbs stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to get down to Ducky, and let him check your arm."

Tony wanted to protest. His arm was still hurting, but he was really not in the mood for a long stay with the no less protective older doctor. He knew that Ducky had wanted to visit him during the weekend but that Gibbs had asked him to stay away so they could discuss things on their own without any disturbances. It suddenly occurred to Tony that Gibbs probably wouldn't accompany him to Autopsy and that this would be his first chance to get away from the older agent for a few minutes. He immediately felt bad for wanting to do so but Gibbs' next words decided the matter for him.

"He's pretty worried about you."

Tony sighed. Of course he couldn't say no, now that he knew that he would cause the nice doctor unneeded worry by staying away.

By the smirk he saw on Gibbs face, just as the doors closed, the bastard probably knew it too.

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Tony expected a lot of things when he entered Autopsy a few minutes later, but he certainly didn't expect to see Ducky's rear end sticking out of a cooler where they usually stored the corpses and hearing the doctor mutter and curse under his breath. He was pretty sure that he'd managed to smother the giggle that threatened to escape, but Ducky's voice soon proved him wrong.

"If you are quite ready being amused at my plight dear Anthony," Ducky said, his voice eerily echoing in the cooler. "Maybe you could bring yourself to help an old man."

"Are you stuck?" Tony tried really hard not to laugh. "And how did you know it was me?"

The old doctor pulled his upper body free and gave him a pinched look. "As you can see I am not stuck. As for your second question, some of my ancestors were actually mind readers. They traveled through Europe with their show. Once, my great-great-great-great grandfather was almost hanged because he'd claimed to have read some very naughty thoughts in the mind of a nobleman's daughter. That had been quite a scandal as you can imagine."

Tony nodded savagely. "Totally." he agreed before he wiggled his eyebrows. "How naughty exactly?"

Ducky tried to look stern but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. "Dear Anthony, that's not quite the moral of the story."

"You mean there was actually a lesson in there somewhere?"

"Every story has got a lesson, my dear boy." Tony opened his mouth, but Ducky cut him off and patted the examination table next to him. "But I know what you are trying to do and I won't be sidetracked. Let's have a look at your arm."

Tony pouted, but hopped on the table obediently. The faster he complied, the faster Ducky would be done and the faster he could get out of here. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company of the old man, but he'd tried his best to ignore the pain in his arm and Ducky poking and prodding it certainly wasn't helping.

So Tony bravely suffered the examination. He looked everywhere but at the gash on his arm. Every time he looked at it, he felt nauseas and broke into a cold sweat. It wasn't a deep gash or even very messy. It didn't even hurt too bad. In fact it wasn't the wound that caused Tony pain, but the memories and feelings that came every time he felt a pang or caught sight of the marred flesh.

"It's painful, isn't it?"

Tony was momentarily taken aback by the quiet voice but shrugged it off. "Not really. It smarts from time to time, but nothing I can't handle."

Ducky stopped in his ministrations and Tony was aware that the doctor was trying to catch his eyes. After a moment's consideration, he turned his head a little, just enough to give the man what he wanted but not far enough that he ran the risk of looking at his arm.

"That's not the kind of pain I meant."

Tony swallowed. He knew it had been a mistake to come down here. Ducky was too perceptive for his own good. "What do you mean?"

"That must have been quite awful, to see your friend die like that."

Tony wondered a moment how Ducky knew, but then he guessed that almost everyone had to know about it by now. There had been NCIS agents present at the crime scene, and evidence had been brought to the labs. You couldn't keep something like this a secret for long.

Tony tried to act nonchalant. "I didn't actually see it happen, you know? And it's not like there was much left to see anywa-" And suddenly he realized what he was saying, _who_ he was talking about. His best friend for years. The man who had helped him with his math because he'd totally sucked at it, and the man with whom he'd had his first and only sleepover when his father had been gone on a business trip for weeks and his nanny had promised not to tell the man. His friend, his wonderful, caring, too naïve for his own good friend. Not the pieces of bloody flesh this psychopath had reduced him to in the end. Not just a random, faceless victim of a crime that Tony could treat like any other unfortunate casualty.

His breath came faster and harder, and Tony dimly realized that he was hyperventilating. His gaze fell on the coolers and suddenly he remembered that this case was NCIS' business now and that they would have brought any corpses here to Ducky. "Oh God," he moaned, getting dizzy from gulping too much air into his lungs too fast and pretty sure that he was going to be sick. The old doctor must have seen the direction of his gaze and pushed his head between his legs with a reassuring hand on the nape of his neck.

"He's not here, Anthony. Please calm down, he's not here. Deep breaths now. Anthony, please."

Tony tried he really did, but every time he attempted to calm his breathing he thought about Jim and what he'd almost said about him. Different images whirled in his mind like a perverse slideshow: Jim laughing at him, Jim's rueful smile as he looked at the cigarettes, Jim, opening his front door, turning to say something to him, a small smile on his lips.

Jim's bloody hand, clutched in Tony's bloody fingers.

The gulping turned into chocked sobs and breathing became even harder. Black dots started to appear in his vision. Tony dimly felt Ducky's hand leave his neck. The man would probably get Gibbs now and Tony's panic skyrocketed at the thought of his boss seeing him like this.

But then he suddenly felt the doctor take a seat beside him, pulling him into an one-armed hug, guiding Tony's head to rest on his chest. It was an awkward position, given the fact that Tony was larger and bulkier than the old man, but Tony didn't want to pull away. He could hear Ducky's heartbeat, smell the old-fashioned cologne on the man and a smell that he'd always associated with old people but couldn't name.

His grandfather Sergio had smelled like that. He'd only seen the man once, during a vacation in Italy, but he'd immediately been smitten with the kind, but weird gentleman who only spoke Italian. Despite the language barrier, the two of them had understood each other better than Tony and his father ever had. He hadn't thought about Grandpa Sergio in years.

Ducky's voice was a calm haven in all the confusion and panic and it cut straight through the rushing sound in Tony's head. "It's alright, dear boy. Pay attention to my breathing. Breathe in when I do, breathe out when I do. That's good. You're doing very well. Steady now, Anthony. Everything's alright."

Without realizing that he was doing it, Tony had started to copy Ducky's breathing rhythm, gradually growing calmer the longer they sat like that. He felt the chest underneath his cheek rise and fall and closed his eyes, just concentrating on getting his breath back.

A few minutes passed this way and when Tony was relatively sure that he was okay again, he reluctantly pulled himself out of the comforting warmth that was Ducky's side. He kept his gaze on the floor and tried to ignore the heat on his cheeks which told him that his face must have been redder than a tomato.

He was embarrassed. Not even with Gibbs had he lost it like he had with Ducky just now. Tony acknowledged that this weekend hadn't left too much room to properly grieve for his closest friend, and the sudden realization that Jim was actually dead and the fear that his corpse could very well be in this room right now, had caught him totally unawares. Nevertheless, he was mortified at his behavior. Breaking down in his own four walls with a bottle of scotch to keep him company would have been okay – and pretty much still possible in the near future – but doing so in front of one of the people he worked with? Unacceptable.

"I'm sorry Ducky. Don't know what came over me." He laughed and got to his wobbly feet, determined to get out of here and lick his wounds in private.

"There is no need to apologize." Ducky said and watched Tony put his jacket on. "Losing a dear friend is always painful. It is me that should be sorry."

The Italian paused and turned to give the doctor a puzzled look. "Why should you be sorry? I'm the one that almost lost his breakfast on your floor."

Ducky shook his head with a sad smile. "Mourning a friend is never an act that needs apologizing. But it was very insensitive of me to just confront you with your loss when it didn't even happen more than a few days ago. Very insensitive indeed. There is a reason why I prefer to work with the dead. It's exceedingly harder to hurt their feelings."

Tony saw that Ducky was actually honestly feeling bad. How weird was it that the old man felt bad for _his_ breakdown? Suddenly, the need to run wasn't as prominent on his mind as it had been before and he actually smiled a little when he remembered something.

Ducky saw it. "What is that smile for, Anthony?" There was hope and happiness in his voice. Hope that Tony had forgiven him for his faux pas, and joy because the gray pallor was gradually leaving the young man's face.

"Just thought that Jim wouldn't have agreed with that." It was the first time that he could mention Jim in the past tense without flinching. "He was very scared of ghosts and such. We could never watch any horror movies together because he would lie awake all week afterward, scared senseless."

"Is that right? I hope you didn't tease him too much."

The grin on the young man's face was all the doctor needed for an answer. He was immensely relieved when Tony leaned back against the table and started talking in a voice full of nostalgia and fondness for a childhood now gone.

"There was this one time when some bullies tried to convince him to join a test of courage in the graveyard that a lot of other kids would go to. Luckily he came to me and told me about it. I knew that there was no dare that night and that they'd probably prepared something to scare him. Nobody did that with Anthony DiNozzo's friends, so we prepared a little something ourselves." Tony snorted as he remembered the night sixteen years ago. "Oh, it was a thing of beauty. Screams filled the night, and I think some of them even peed themselves."

Ducky settled back into his chair and unobtrusively disconnected the phone. His break was due anyway and he didn't want any interruptions right now. "Sounds like you two were quite the troublemakers."

"More me than him." Tony admitted without shame and an easygoing smile. "But he was a devil himself, deep inside. In second grade, he was the one responsible for the 'frog incident' that actually led to us becoming friends."

"The frog incident?"

Tony then began detailing the events that led to the forming of a friendship that would survive many years and many hardships. And Ducky, the storyteller, became Ducky, the audience – listening to tales of the mischief of two boys; one he had the pleasure of welcoming into their tight-knit family, and one he wished he could have gotten to know himself.

And unbeknownst to them, a third person stood outside in the shadows and listened as well. He leaned against the wall near the door, not visible to the two inside or to anyone stepping out of the elevator. The figure dared not to breathe too loud or to move, for fear of making himself known to the doctor and the Italian. He strained his ears to not miss anything, even ignoring the phone vibrating in his pocket.

And as Tony talked and laughed, Ducky laughing with him, Agent Burg stood and listened, his face a careful mask, void of emotions.

TBC

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Oh my, what is going on? :) You didn't really think that I would let Jim's death slide like that, right? Tony needed a little mourning time and Ducky was perfect support. I'm afraid I neglected him a little in this story and I promised myself to insert some much needed Grandfather/caring Ducky, so here it is.

Lots of unanswered questions: What's Burg doing? What was Ducky searching for? And what the heck is the 'frog incident`? I'll probably write a little one-shot about it, which I'll post independently. I just have too much fun with little Tony and cute little Jimmy (sorry about the confusion, I totally wasn't thinking about our Palmer at the time which is unforgivable, considering that I adore Mr. Palmer!). Look out for a One-Shot called "The Day of the Frog Incident". I don't know when I'll come around to write and post it but that's the title it's gonna have. Need to stay true to my crappy story names, don't I?

And don't worry, Gibbs is gonna get his hurt/comfort moment with Tony too. As we all know, he is a bit more reluctant to show his feelings than Ducky is, but I'll get him there... 'evil grin'


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I just play with them.

A/N: I'm back. *evades flying rotten tomatos* I'm sorry! I don't want to bore you with my problems these past months, let's just say that things didn't work out the way I hoped and I was a little depressed... at least too depressed to write anything. But I'm back and (hopefully) I'm back for good. This story will be finished, promise. A bit short this chapter to get back into things, but the next should be longer again.

Thanks to my beta AZGirl. You're awesome!

* * *

Chapter 15

When Tony had finished with his story, he just sat there for a while, lost in memories. Ducky gladly left him to it, offering silent support in the form of a hand on his arm. It had felt good to get all those pent up emotions off his chest, he felt lighter somehow, and not like a big dark cloud was still hanging over his head. It was a vast improvement to his earlier mood, if he dared say so himself.

Tony sighed and managed to flash the doctor a small smile. "Thanks Ducky. That was... good." He winced at his inability to express how much this little talk had meant to him, but Ducky just smiled back as if he understood perfectly, which he probably did.

"It was no trouble at all, I assure you. Should the need to talk ever arise again, you know where to find me."

Tony was touched by the willingness of the man to listen to his ramblings. "Thank you, but I don't want to bother you. It's fine now."

Ducky certainly doubted that the man was even remotely okay right now, but he let it go without a word. "You won't bother me. You can't imagine how often Jethro comes down here to vent a little. It will be quite refreshing to hear another voice once in a while."

For some reason the information that Gibbs felt the need to, well, talk about stuff once in a while surprised Tony. Sure, the older man had been relentless when it had come to Tony spilling the beans about his father, but somehow the Italian had assumed that it was more out of the need to finally get some answers than an honest desire to just talk these things through with him.

"He does?"

"Oh yes." Ducky confirmed. "Even Jethro knows that it's not okay to bottle everything up. Nothing good comes of that."

"It's just," Tony muttered, "he seems like the kind of man that would rather take a bullet than talk about feelings." And he really believed that, even after the disastrous weekend. It had been an emotional time, with ups and downs, but they hadn't really spoke about feelings. When Tony had talked about his past, he had sounded like he was giving a report – the kinds of punishments his father liked to dish out, how it had worsened when his mother had died, and about the day he'd been sent to military school. But, at no point, had he related how he'd felt during it all. The weekend had been about the bare facts, and Tony was grateful for that. He shuddered to think about how draining and exhausting this weekend would have been if his boss had forced him to recount his many conflicting feelings during those years as well.

"It's not like he wears his heart on his sleeve when he walks in here. But everyone needs a sympathetic ear once in a while, even Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Tony was still doubtful and he shrugged. "I guess."

Suddenly an uncomfortable look crossed Ducky's face. "You won't tell him I told you that, will you?"

Tony sniggered but nodded. "Don't worry, I won't tell him you told me his deep, dark secret."

Ducky waved his hand as if waving away his promise. "Oh, he won't care that I told you. He trusts you. But, for some reason, he thinks that I can't control myself when it comes to talking about others. He apparently believes me to be almost as bad as Abby and I'd rather not prove him right, you understand, don't you?"

But Tony didn't because he hadn't heard a word after 'He trusts you'.

"You really think that?"

"Oh, yes! He will come down here and tell me 'I told you so' and I really..."

Tony shook his head, trying hard not to shake the old man by the shoulders. "No, I mean the other thing. Do you really think he trust me?"

Ducky blinked a few times, before he frowned in confusion. "Of course he does. You wouldn't be on his team, if he didn't." Tony looked absolutely baffled and Ducky's confusion turned into sad realization. "You didn't know that." he stated, rather than asked.

Tony broke out of his stupor to grin at Ducky. "Geez Ducky, of course I knew that." But he hadn't, not really. He had assumed that Gibbs had taken him on board only because of his abilities and maybe even out of some misplaced guilt – though he really hoped the latter wasn't the case, he didn't do pity – and not because he had actually achieved the man's trust. Trust was obligatory in this kind of job, but that was more the kind of trust to have your six in the field, not to trust your partner with personal secrets.

Tony smiled. But that's what he had done with Gibbs. hadn't he? He'd trusted the older man with his secrets. Admittedly, they'd been kind of forced out, but he could've walked away any time he wanted, and he hadn't. He trusted Gibbs, and now he knew that Gibbs trusted him too.

It was an exhilarating revelation that had Tony grinning stupidly. Ducky of course saw the exited flush on the boy's cheeks, and somehow knew that things were finally going uphill again.

Tony cleared his throat and made his way over to the exit. "Well, I better get back before Gibbs comes looking for me and you'll have to examine me again."

Ducky waved and told him to come back before he went home tonight, and Tony, in too good a mood to protest, readily agreed.

The Italian left Autopsy with more confidence than he'd felt for days. He was just short of the elevator when his good mood dimmed a little upon seeing Agent Burg. The man was casually leaning against the wall beside the elevator, and was staring at the floor with his arms crossed behind his back. Tony stopped, uncertain. A bad feeling settled in Tony's stomach because it almost seemed as if the man was waiting for him and not the elevator.

That was absurd of course, but Tony didn't want to risk a confrontation right now. Even if he was in a better mood, his nerves were still frazzled and he didn't know if he would be able to hold back if Burg should decide to make trouble.

Knowing the other man hadn't seen him yet, Tony decided to avoid a potential confrontation by taking the stairs. His mouth twitched when he thought how ticked off his father would be at this supposed show of cowardice. Normally, he would never turn away from a challenge, but he really wasn't in the mood for trouble, and he also figured Gibbs would certainly approve of avoiding a pointless argument.

He was just about to turn the corner that led to the stairs when he heard hurried footsteps behind him and Burg calling his name. Tony haltingly stopped and sighed, thinking, "I guess there's no way around it."

He was just turning to ask the man what he wanted when he felt pain explode in his head. Suddenly everything seemed off kilter and blurry, and Tony felt himself fall forward but couldn't get his hands up in time to stop his decent. A voice called his name, and he could've sworn it sounded like Burg's, before darkness beckoned him and he followed it willingly.

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Burg had always thought he was the perfect man for Gibbs' team. He was a good agent, got along with Abby, and he never apologized; something he knew Gibbs thought was a sign of weakness.

But, no matter how many times he applied for the position; no matter how much he tried to impress not only his own boss but Gibbs as well, the man never seemed to take him seriously. It was frustrating, and worst of all, it was unexplainable; at least to Burg. He just couldn't understand why Gibbs couldn't see his qualities, or even why the man couldn't even tell him what he had to do to change his mind. The only time Burg had openly asked him about it, the man had point blank told him that he acknowledged that he was good at his job, but that they would never work as a team. And when Burg had asked him why, the man had simply referred to his gut feeling, as if that explained everything.

The situation and his inability to do something about it, had pushed Burg to the edge of depression. He was used to getting what he wanted because he worked relentlessly hard until the goal was in his grasp. But even though he really wanted to join Gibbs' team, there was nothing he could do because the man wouldn't even tell him what he was doing wrong. It made him second guess himself and his actions, something he'd never done before and into his admiration for Gibbs had also seeped a generous amount of contempt because of that.

The older agent had never shown him anything but respect though, and had never belittled him for his unobtainable wish, which had made this whole issue a lot easier to deal with. With time, he had even found that he was rather happy with his current team. He had started to come to grasp with the fact that he would never be a part of Team Gibbs. Things had started to look up again.

And then _he_ had turned up!

News traveled fast at NCIS, so Burg had already known that Gibbs would bring back a detective from Baltimore to work with him long before he actually laid eyes on the man. Burg hadn't been worried though. He was well aware that no agent managed to get along with Gibbs for very long and that the lead agent grew tired of any new agent even faster. This detective had apparently impressed Gibbs, but Burg had known that it would only be a matter of time before the ex-cop would disappear again. Maybe he would stay an agent, maybe not, but it didn't matter because he wouldn't stay Gibbs' agent and that was enough.

And when Anthony DiNozzo had waltzed into the bullpen with a laughing Abby in tow and had pretty much acted like an immature child, Burg had been sure that the guy wouldn't survive a week.

But he had. And, not only that, but Gibbs seemed to tolerate DiNozzo's behavior to a certain degree. There had been no end in sight, and that's when Burg had started to look at DiNozzo not with curiosity but with hate.

Okay, so hate probably wasn't the right word. He didn't hate DiNozzo, but he certainly didn't like the guy either. Burg had been prepared to deal with his dislike and move on, because the Italian had to be a damn good investigator if Gibbs was willing to put up with him. There wasn't anything he could really do about that.

But, then he had overheard a conversation between two other agents about DiNozzo's stinking rich father, and he'd come to his own conclusions.

The rich boy had obviously bought his way onto Gibbs team.

If it had been any other time, Burg would've been intelligent enough to recognize the flaw in that idea, mainly that Gibbs would never accept a deal like that and that he had seen just how hard DiNozzo actually worked. But his disappointment, his anger, and just the general feeling of unfairness just seemed to have brought out the worst in Burg.

After he'd written that taunting note for DiNozzo, he had felt bad about it. He'd watched DiNozzo read it and seen the short moment of pain on the Italian's face before his face had completely shut down. Even when he had taunted DiNozzo after that, his heart hadn't been in it. The anger he'd felt then had been directed more towards his own petty actions, and he'd taken it out on DiNozzo simply because he had been there.

He had kept his distance after that, and when he'd heard that someone had filled DiNozzo's locker with blood red paint, he'd been ashamed for his colleagues. There were some things you just didn't do no matter how much you disliked a person. In their line of work you saw enough blood that this dirty little joke could have done some serious damage to one's psyche.

Burg had tried to find out who'd done it, but all of the agents he'd asked had claimed innocence. And, even if he had found the culprit, he hadn't been sure what he would've done with the knowledge. He didn't want to get anyone into trouble, and certainly not for DiNozzo. He still didn't like the man, and hell would freeze over before that would change.

And now he stood waiting outside of Autopsy for Tony to come out so he could apologize.

He hadn't meant to listen in on their conversation. He'd just wanted to bring Ducky the pen he'd accidentally taken with him the last time he was down here because he knew the M.E. would miss it since it had been a gift from his mother. But, just as he was about to enter, he'd heard DiNozzo's voice and instead of coming back another time, he'd stayed and eavesdropped on their conversation.

Burg had been shocked when he'd seen the agent break down like that. Of course he had heard about the explosion and that a friend of DiNozzo had died, but until that moment, he hadn't really understood.

DiNozzo's friend had died!

Somehow, until now, DiNozzo had been an abstract being for him. He always joked, was always in a good mood, and was always dressed in his designer suits. He had seemed like an actor playing a role, as if very little if nothing about him was even real. But this was real, wasn't it? This man crying for a lost comrade... you couldn't get more real.

In that moment, Burg realized that this façade of DiNozzo's had been what had caused his blood to boil, what had been the reason for his immediate dislike of him. He didn't like it when he couldn't tell what a person thought or felt, and he also realized that he didn't actually believe the other rumor he'd heard. It had been hard to believe from the very beginning, but the longer he watched DiNozzo the more he knew that it was completely outrageous to think that Tony would ever do something that vile. Whoever had started that particular rumor must really hate DiNozzo...

When he'd seen how surprised the ex-cop had been to learn of Gibbs' trust, Burg had realized that Tony didn't take his job for granted. The Italian always seemed so confident of his place with Gibbs that it had grated on Burg's nerves. He had always thought, and it had always seemed that DiNozzo didn't show nearly enough gratitude for being where he was.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Burg hadn't been angry at DiNozzo's behavior or disappointed with Gibbs' choice. He'd simply been jealous. Like a little boy that couldn't get what he wanted, he'd been jealous of the other agent and had shown it in the worst possible way. His jealousy shamed him because it was such a petty emotion and not worthy of a NCIS agent. For the first time he acknowledged that maybe Gibbs had sensed something of his emotions, and that it had been the right decision to not let him join his team.

He needed to apologize. DiNozzo shouldn't have to take any crap for his inability to deal with setbacks. He wanted to say that he was sorry, even if it was a sign of weakness. But then again, Abby had once told him that there was a difference between apologizing and admitting that you were in the wrong. He hadn't understood what she meant back then – maybe another reason why Gibbs had instinctively refused him – but he did now.

He had been wrong about DiNozzo, and he was ready to admit it.

Burg was so lost in his thoughts, that he almost missed Tony's exit. He was dismayed to discover that the man went the other way just to avoid him, but couldn't blame him. He jogged after him and shouted his name just as Tony was about to turn the corner. DiNozzo stopped and was turning around with an annoyed expression on his face when all hell broke loose.

Burg only had time to register someone jumping from around the corner, their face hidden by a cap and an arm with something long and metal rushing down towards DiNozzo's head before the agent was already falling forward. Burg momentarily froze in shock, but forced himself back into action when he saw the figure raise his arm for a second hit.

He shouted something and the figure flinched in surprise. Burg had ran towards the two men and got the impression of two very blue and very frightened eyes before the attacker disappeared behind the corner. Burg cursed, debating for a second whether he should follow the guy, but deciding against it. He had to check on DiNozzo first, make sure the man was still alive, and get some help for him immediately. Besides, this was NCIS HQ. There was no way the person who hit Tony would get very far. He peeked around the corner to make sure the assailant was gone, noticing the metal pipe lying a few feet down the corridor. He recalled that the man hadn't worn gloves and a feral smile lit up his face. What an amateur.

When Burg was sure that they were alone he felt DiNozzo's pulse. He already had his phone to his ear and was alerting security to the threat and describing the suspect to them when he felt a strong and steady thump under his fingers. Burg sighed in relief, since he didn't even want to imagine what the man he was about to call next would do to him if DiNozzo was dead. When he rolled DiNozzo into the recovery position, a groan alerted him to the fact that the Italian was already coming around again.

"Urg..." Tony moaned, moving a shaking hand to his head. A thin trickle of blood worked its way through his hair. "T'is is gettin' ol'."

Burg couldn't help the snort. "You just love to attract trouble, don't you DiNozzo?" He saw the Italian squinting his eyes open and stare at him in bleary surprise and suspicion. "And before you ask, it wasn't me."

Tony rolled his eyes, and immediately closed them when the pain hit. "Know tha'. God, what hit me t'is time? A plasma grenade?"

"You do?" Burg asked absentmindedly as he dialed another number. Before he put the phone to his ear he turned in the direction of Autopsy and shouted Ducky's name as loud as he could. He ignored the curses of the prone figure about having even more of a headache now, and just hoped that Ducky had heard him. He would phone him if he hadn't but first he had another call to make.

"Yeah, know your type Burg." Tony muttered, massaging his aching temples. He sounded stronger now and didn't slur anymore, another good sign. "If you wanted to knock me out you would do it face to face and not from behind."

Burg paused at the unexpected sort-of compliment. "Thanks... I guess."

They saw Ducky coming down the hall and after a shocked exclamation of "My dear God, Anthony," and making sure the Italian was awake and more or less lucid the man rushed back to get his medical supplies.

Tony finally noticed the phone that Burg had pressed to his ear again and a look of dismay crossed his face. "Don't tell me you're calling..."

"Agent Gibbs." Burg greeted into his phone and was faintly amused to hear Tony groan. "It's Agent Burg. I'm with Agent DiNozzo, he was attacked and... Outside Autopsy... Yes... No... Ah, yes sir."

He put the phone away, looking dazed and a little bit alarmed. "He'll be here in three minutes."

"Make that one." Tony drawled. "He'll never let me get out of his sight again."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing. You've been hurt more times in one week than most agents are in their entire career here."

Tony looked around and finally saw the pipe. His eyes widened and a sickly green look settled on his cheeks. "I was hit with _that?"_

Burg nodded and eyed the metal pipe. "You must have a pretty hard head. I'm surprised you didn't suffer brain damage from that hit. But then again, it's hard to tell with you." Burg smiled to soften the words.

Tony glared at him, but couldn't hide the twitch of his lips. "It must be the concussion. Could've sworn you just made a joke, Burg."

"Definitely the concussion." Burg grinned, actually enjoying the banter. Maybe hell could freeze over after all. He moved aside when Ducky came back and started to probe the head wound. "By the way, the name's Matt."

Tony's eyes flickered in surprise before he smiled hesitantly. "Tony. Nice to meet you."

Matt stepped back and observed Ducky work. As far as apologizing without actually saying sorry went, he thought he'd done a good job. He turned around when he heard another pair of feet approach and saw Gibbs in, as Abby put it, 'Worried-papa-bear-mode' striding down the hall towards his agent.

Matt gulped. Now he just had to make sure to survive Gibbs' wrath.

TBC

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Yeah, so Burg was just a jealous jerk but he came around so Yay! But who has the grudge? We'll know soon... xD


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** NCIS is not mine and I make no money of this.

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. Good news is, that the exam I thought I had pretty much f****ed up turned out to have gone rather well after all. I freaked out over nothing again. That's a thing of mine so it really shouldn't surprise me as much as it still does... oh well.

A shout out and an extra big hug goes to **AZGirl** for the amazing beta-work and for not growing tired of typing "insert a comma here". God, my punctuation is getting worse instead of better. 0.o

By the way, love all the nifty little changes the site has undergone recently (but NOT the deleting of awesome stories, that's not cool) especially the story-image thingy. If anyone artistically talented wants to make something like that for the "The Day" series (or any of my other stories), please do so and tell me about it. That would be awesome. :)

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Chapter 16

When Gibbs saw Tony resting against a wall near Autopsy, his forehead covered in blood from the now dressed head wound, he knew that he would never get used to that dropping sensation in his stomach.

In seconds he was at his agent's side surprising even himself when he gently cupped Tony's chin to get a better look at the wound. "What happened?" he asked, not sounding nearly as gruff as he'd planned.

Tony blinked too slowly making Gibbs think his agent likely had a concussion. The younger man flashed his boss one of his infamous grins. "Aw, you know how it is boss. A day without a little injury is a day lost."

Gibbs hand curled around Tony's neck which he now squeezed in lieu of a headslap. It was obvious that the young Italian wanted to distract him, but he should have known by now that nothing managed to distract Leroy Jethro Gibbs when he'd set his sights on something.

He noticed Burg hovering nearby and barked a sharp, "Talk!" Gibbs was pleased to see the young agent jump even though he was grateful to him for alerting him and taking care of Tony. But, as long as he didn't know what had happened here and how Burg fit into it, he wasn't going to dish out compliments.

Tony snickered at Burg's jump, but leaned into Gibbs hand which was still resting at the base of his neck with a content sigh. There was that dropping sensation again, but this time not at all unpleasant, accompanied by the memory of a small girl doing the same when she'd felt ill. With a heavy heart Gibbs pushed the memory away for now. He couldn't afford to get lost in his own mind when he had a criminal to catch. When this was over, there was still enough time to contemplate what these new feelings meant.

His eyes never left Tony as he listened to Burg recounting what had happened. The more he heard, the more his blood started to boil. Someone had dared to attack an agent – _his_ agent – inside NCIS. Gibbs didn't even want to imagine what could have happened if Burg hadn't been down here as well. The dirtbag probably would have beat his agent to death with that pipe. The first hit had likely been meant to stun and not kill Tony outright, which the man would've been more than capable of doing according to Burg's description – several inches taller than Tony with a sturdy body. That could only mean that the man had wanted to prolong Tony's death.

The hate this person must feel for Tony had to be incredible. If it was the same man who'd placed that bomb – which Gibbs was certain of – then he had obviously changed tactics. The bomb had been planned and conducted with care. Just this morning he'd received a call from Steve who'd told him that they had found no fingerprints or DNA. The bomber had left no trace, but this time he'd used a pipe without gloves and had attacked Tony in a building filled with agents and security cameras. This attack had been rash and not well thought out, a sudden irrational act.

But, then again, it took some planning and work to get into NCIS in the first place. Assuming that at least some of the pranks, like the paint in Tony's locker, were courtesy of this guy as well, it meant that he must have had access to NCIS for a while. Despite Gibbs' reluctance to believe that an agent could be malicious enough to attack someone from behind, Burg had already informed him that he hadn't recognized Tony's assailant. And why would an agent who couldn't have known Tony for longer than two weeks want to kill the young man so badly that he even risked an attack right here where someone could've easily identified him while he'd fled the scene of the crime. It didn't make any sense. They were all missing something.

By the time Burg had finished his report, security had arrived, and Gibbs was so busy barking orders and demanding updates – growling when he found out that they hadn't found the guy yet – that he almost missed Tony trying to stand up. Surprisingly enough it was Matt who stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a stern look in his eyes.

"Stop right there or do you want to toss your cookies all over the place?"

Tony frowned, but didn't try to stand again. "DiNozzo's never puke."

"Uh huh. If you say so."

Gibbs couldn't help but smile a little. He'd known that the two agents had shared a slight animosity towards each other but apparently the DiNozzo charm had worked its magic yet again.

"Since the two of you are such good friends now," he said with just a tiny bit of sarcasm thrown in, "you can take him to the hospital to get checked out."

Matt was already nodding his head but Tony's face fell. "What? But I don't need to go to the hospital. Ducky already took care of it." He cast the old doctor, who up to this point had been kneeling beside him, a beseeching look, but Ducky merely shook his head and began pacing his equipment away.

"I'm sorry my boy but I only treated that cut superficially to stop the bleeding. You probably need stitches not to mention the slight concussion you probably have. I'd rather you get checked out properly at the hospital."

"You heard the man," Gibbs said before Tony could even open his mouth to protest some more. He bent down and slowly helped the Italian to his feet. Tony briefly closed his eyes as a dizzy spell hit him, but when he opened them again there was fierce determination shining in the hazel orbs and Gibbs sighed, preparing himself for a fight.

"I don't need the hospital boss. I'm fine."

Security had left already and only Gibbs, Tony, Matt and Ducky remained in the hallway. Something about the way Tony held himself against the wall and the set of his jaw told Gibbs that there was more behind Tony's reluctance than mere stubbornness. He shot Ducky a meaningful glance and was gratified to see the older man nod in understanding.

"Agent Burg, would you mind helping me carry back my medical bag."

Matt looked confused for a second but obviously noticed that there was more to the request and picked the bag up without another word.

Tony watched the two disappear behind a corner with a strained smirk on his lips before he turned back to Gibbs who was still standing in front of him. "Smooth, boss."

Gibbs didn't react to the barb. "What is this about?"

"I just don't need to go to the hospital. I'm fine."

"You're dripping blood all over the floor and you're telling me you are fine?"

Tony made a show of looking at the floor and moving his lips as he silently counted the four drops of blood that littered the floor where he'd briefly landed after the blow.

"Didn't know you were prone to exaggerate."

"On the other hand we know that you like to downplay your injuries, don't we?" Gibbs shot back.

Tony's eyes narrowed, one of his hands going to the makeshift bandage Ducky had applied. "Don't need to this time. This really is nothing. I'm-"

"I swear to God DiNozzo, if you say 'I'm fine' one more time I'm gonna headslap you into next week, concussion or not."

Tony didn't cower like others would have done when faced with a pissed off Gibbs but instead held his gaze. "I'm okay," he drawled through a curled lip. Gibbs would have been impressed by this show of courage if the urge to strangle the stubborn idiot in front of him hadn't been so strong. "Come on Gibbs, I want to help."

"You are no help to me if I have to worry about you toppling over every moment."

Gibbs knew he'd said the wrong thing when Tony's face went blank and he averted his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. Better get checked out."

He turned to go, but Gibbs grabbed his arm. He'd messed up and didn't know how to make it right again. Didn't even know why he felt he needed to. What he'd said was harsh but the truth and he was the boss here. He didn't understand why the thought of his words hurting Tony was bothering him so much. "Tony-"

"No, you're right. I'm clearly not much help. Haven't been really. I mean, messing up that case, being mobbed, blown up and now getting attacked with a freaking pipe. Not what you signed up for, aren't I?"

The unspoken "More trouble than I'm worth" rang loud and clear through the corridor and Gibbs, not known for being the touchy-feely kind of guy, found himself cupping Tony's neck yet again and bringing the Italian's forehead to rest against his shoulder. It wasn't quite a hug but as close to one as Gibbs knew Tony would allow. He suspected that, if Tony hadn't been slightly concussed and still dealing with the events of the past few days, he wouldn't have tolerated even this. The young man had been so deprived of human and affectionate contact that he'd convinced himself that he neither needed nor wanted it, but Gibbs knew better. He felt Tony stiffen and his breath even out almost as if the man was afraid that any sudden movement would break the spell, but he didn't try to pull away.

"Was never known to read the fine print. Doesn't mean I'll change my mind," he said. "Everything good comes with a bit of work in tow."

Tony was still for a very long time but Gibbs felt him gradually relax until he more or less leaned into the supporting shoulder. His voice was muffled when he spoke, but Gibbs still thought he sounded far too vulnerable. "Or a lot in my case."

"That's a matter of opinion." Gibbs let his fingers curl around the hairs in Tony's nape for a brief second before he finally released his young agent. Tony actually hesitated before he moved his head away. He kept his head down, apparently not willing to meet his boss' eyes just yet. Gibbs could see a hint of red cheeks and cursed DiNozzo Sr. for damaging his son so much, that even years later he still couldn't accept a show of true affection without feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed about it.

Gibbs had never before felt the need to change his own ways for the sake of another human being since Shannon and Kelly had died, but right there, staring at the bent head of his SFA, he vowed to himself that he would show Tony that it was okay to lean on others – to lean on him. Never before had he opened himself to another colleague as much as he was willing to open himself for Tony.

There was Abby of course, but despite how she may act in the office, he wasn't the center of her world. She had friends and her nuns in whom she could confide. She very seldom came to him with her personal problems, and if she did, she'd usually already mostly figured the solution out for herself and only inquired whether or not he agreed with her. She was a strong and confident young woman.

Tony was in his own way very strong, but where Abby wasn't afraid to go to others for help if necessary, Tony bottled everything up, thinking that he had to deal with everything alone. Gibbs knew that Tony had no family apart from his father, who was the root of all evil, and doubted that the young man could claim many true friends. And, one of the few he may have had, had just died.

Whether the young man could admit it to himself or not, he needed Gibbs and Gibbs for his part was finally able to acknowledge that he needed Tony just as much. Needed that feeling of being needed again. He hadn't realized that he could still want to take care of anyone after he'd lost his wife and kid. He'd thought that that part of him had died with his family, but maybe it had just gone dormant, waiting for the right person to come along. Shannon had always teased him withabout his overbearing need to protect them. She'd said that he wasn't complete when he couldn't take care of someone and she'd been right.

With Tony around that desire to protect had begun to come back again. And, with the way things have been going lately, the younger man needed a little protecting right now. If only Tony would let him.

"You'll go to the hospital." he ordered, his voice rough with the realization that this man had become so much more to him in such a short time, and that he didn't feel the need to push him away but instead found himself embracing that new responsibility in his life.

Tony didn't seem happy but finally gave in. "Okay, totally unnecessary, but okay."

He still wouldn't look at Gibbs, but that was okay. They had all the time in the world to work on Tony's various issues. Gibbs hadn't lied when he'd said that everything good came with a bit of work, and he was more than willing to tackle this Italian challenge head on.

A few minutes later he watched Burg escort Tony to the elevator. It was hard to watch them go since he was reluctant to let Tony out of his sight so shortly after an attack, but Gibbs knew that he would be of more use here where he could help hunt this bastard down. He'd ordered one of the security guys to get the evidence to Abby and to tell her to check the surveillance tapes so that's where he would go first. Maybe the Goth already had something for him.

He waited until the elevator closed behind Tony to give the man some space before he made his way to Abby's lab.

He would find out who had hurt Tony and make him regret the day he'd decided to mess with Gibbs' own.

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It wasn't that he hated hospitals.

Well okay, he did hate them,but he could appreciate them when they were needed. For example, when you were about to lose a limb or something. That's when he would gladly hitch a ride with the next ambulance that came along. But a little scratch and a splitting headache weren't nearly bad enough to warrant the hospital.

In Tony's opinion anyway.

"Would you stop sulking DiNozzo?" Matt asked, completely annoyed with the younger agent by now. "I feel like I'm visiting the dentist with my niece. My eight year old niece. Only I don't think that even she is such a drama queen."

Tony glared at the agent waiting by the gurney where Tony was currently waiting for the doctor to bring him the prescribed painkillers and to take a final look at the five stitches he'd been given. The stitches itched and the headache was steadily growing worse. All in all, Tony was in a bad mood and more than ready to get out of here.

"Yeah well, I want to see you get stitches from a doctor with hands the size of a gorilla. And just as hairy." he sighed and stared at the ceiling. "Not even a cute nurse to hold my hand. Just you."

Matt bristled at the disappointed expression with which Tony looked at him. "Next time I'll let Gibbs take you then. Let's see how well he takes your whining."

Tony did all he could to keep himself from blushing and fidgeting when he thought back to the scene in the hallway. When Gibbs had pulled him in like that it had been really uncomfortable and embarrassing but also kinda nice. No one had ever comforted him like that when he'd felt down. When Gibbs' jacket had pressed into his face he'd smelled the coffee and sawdust and realized that he already associated the smell with safety and home. It had stunned him, made it hard for him to breathe, and more or less scared him to death, but he'd still stood still and allowed himself to enjoy the sort-of-hug as long as it had lasted.

He realized that he didn't freak out nearly as much as he usually would. Usually he would berate himself by now for letting his guard down. Maybe it was because Gibbs had initiated the contact or maybe it was simply because the former Marine was the first person he respected that didn't give him the feeling that relying on others was a show of weakness.

Whatever it was, Tony decided to just let it be for now. The last few days had been emotional for the both of them which had probably resulted in this one time occurrence. Tony seriously doubted that it would ever happen again.

He turned back to the other mystery at hand, namely Matt Burg, who was leaning against the wall besides him. Despite the snarking and banter, the agent had been nothing but companionable with him, a stark difference to the man he'd met in the bullpen a few days ago.

"What happened to you?" he asked. He was glad that Burg had apparently gotten over whatever it was that had crawled up his ass before, but Tony had been messed around with too often to just accept it as fact. He wanted a reason, an explanation for the change of heart.

Matt raised an eyebrow and actually managed to look concerned. "Are you sure the concussion isn't more severe. You were the one attacked, not me."

"Not what I meant and you know it. What happened to make you leave the "Hate Tony Club" and join the "Love Tony Club"?"

Matt scratched his cheek. "I wouldn't call it that. I mean, sorry, but you are not my type." When he saw Tony just staring at him he sighed. "Look, I had some issues with you, but I got over them."

"Issues? You didn't even know me."

And so Matt relented and told Tony some of the reasoning behind his actions and how and why he'd gotten over them. He didn't tell him everything, not even close. Some of the stuff he'd been feeling and doing embarrassed him just too much. Despite his own wish to finally come clean, he also couldn't bring himself to tell Tony that he had been the one to write that letter back then. But then again, something about the way Tony looked at him told him that the Italian already knew about that. He was an investigator after all.

He also didn't tell him that he'd overheard Tony's conversation with Ducky and how that had helped change his view of the man. Something told him that Tony would forgive him the eavesdropping, but that the young agent would be deadly embarrassed that someone other than Ducky had witnessed his breakdown.

In the end, his explanation made him look like a jealous jerk – which he, to a point, had been – but it was better than telling the whole story and looking like a pathetic and eavesdropping jealous jerk.

But Tony didn't laugh at him or curse him or any of the other things Burg had expected.

In reality, Tony didn't look angry at all because he wasn't. Admiring someone so much that you wanted to impress them so badly and forgot even your own principles for a time? Oh yeah, he could understand that only too well. Tony didn't even want to imagine what would've happened if he'd had a sibling his father loved more than him. Tony wanted to believe that he would have loved his brother or sister regardless, but he had no way of knowing because he had never been in the position to compete for his father's love against anyone or anything other than the man's business – and he hadn't ever felt bad about hating the business.". But would he have hated a brother or sister just as much?

He just didn't know.

Some distant part of him realized that comparing him and Matt to siblings would make Gibbs the parent, and he immediately scolded himself for the warmth that thought brought to him. Gibbs wasn't his father, no matter how much he'd wished for that when he'd been a kid and alone in military school. His father was a business man called Anthony DiNozzo, a mean bastard who'd enjoyed hurting him and had never loved him. It was time he learned to deal with that instead of chasing fantasies of steady father figures and jealous siblings. It was time he stopped yearning for words of affection and awkward half-hugs from a man he merely worked with, nothing more and nothing less. He was growing needy.

And DiNozzo's didn't need anyone.

"Hey," Burg said, hesitantly, and Tony realized that some of the bitterness must have shown on his face. "You okay?"

He forced a smile that felt brittle even to himself. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Matt didn't look convinced, but he met the smile with one of his own. "So, we're cool?"

Tony had to think of all the high school movies he'd watched and couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up. "Yeah dude!" he drawled and fist bumped with Matt who'd started laughing himself. "We're so cool, it's freezing."

Matt was still chuckling when the doctor came in. He was obviously happy with the work on the wound and gave Tony the painkillers with the clear instruction to only take them when it hurt. Since Tony didn't plan to take them at all – painkillers tended to make him drowsy – he nodded readily. He would promise anything to get out of the hospital. After a last skeptical look at the agent and his giggling partner, the doctor shook his hand and left the room in a hurry, telling them to go to the reception to sign his release papers.

Tony finally breathed a bit easier and hopped off the cot – stubbornly ignoring the spike of pain that shot through his skull – and was about to slip into his jacket when Matt's next words stopped him cold.

"Man, you're not half bad, Anthony DiNozzo. I can't believe I actually believed those rumors."

"Rumors? What rumors?" Tony asked lightly. "You mean how rich daddy got me into NCIS?"

Matt suddenly looked uncomfortable which piqued Tony's curiosity that much more. "Well yeah, but I actually meant the other one."

Tony blinked, then narrowed his eyes when Matt couldn't meet his eyes. "What other one?"

So Matt told him and the more he heard, the more pieces finally fell into place. There was only one person who would tell something like this, only one person who would know enough of the facts to change the truth into half-lies.

He finally knew who'd tried to kill him.

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When Gibbs entered Abby's lab the music was even louder than usual, the Goth's head bobbing up and down almost aggressively to the beat.

He came up behind her and watched over her shoulder the security feeds of the corridor in front of Autopsy. Abby was just reaching for the button to start the loop again, and by the way her finger jabbed at the thing, he could tell that it hadn't been the first time she'd re-watched the tape.

He could immediately tell why. Tony was unmistakably visible, but his attacker seemed to come out of nowhere, shadows hiding him until the last possible second. And even when the camera got him in its sights, he always kept his face averted or covered under that cap of his. His face was never once visible.

They watched as he swung the pipe towards Tony, and even Gibbs winced when it met its mark and the Italian went to the ground. Abby didn't move a muscle and Gibbs had a flash of guilt for leaving her alone for so long, watching this over and over for who knows how long. He was about to reach out and wrap an arm around her shoulder when her hand moved again. This time she didn't restart the video but cut off the music.

"He knew where the cameras were," she said into the following silence, her gaze still fixed on the still form of Tony in the paused video. She must have seen Gibbs' reflection in the monitor the moment he'd stepped through the doors.

She didn't turn around, not even when Gibbs' hand landed on her shoulder. He could feel how tense she was and he'd heard the ice in her voice. Gibbs knew that Abby was way past her freaking out stage, where she whirled through her lab like a tornado and talked a mile a minute. This was focused Abby, the one that had nothing else on her mind other than to do her part and catch whoever had hurt her friends. Gibbs deduced that he was only dealing with focused Abby right now because she must already knew that Tony was relatively okay. Right now the only thought on her mind was finding the one responsible. When everything was over and done with, she would go back to her usual self and mother Tony until he would literally feel the need to kill her himself.

"You know what that means, don't you?" Gibbs asked and was gratified to see her finally turn her chair around to regard him with the shadow of her usual grin.

"Way ahead of you," she warbled and pointed to another computer where a program was running its course. The screen was divided in two with one side showing the fingerprints lifted from the pipe and the other rapidly flipping through head-shots. Gibbs recognized some of the faces, others he'd never seen before. "If he knows where the cameras are well enough to actually avoid them during the attack," Abby continued, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she came to stand next to Gibbs who was watching the screen intensely, "he must be working here. Or has worked here at some point. I'm currently running the prints through our database. We should have him soon."

Gibbs nodded and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Good work Abs."

"Thanks." They stood like that for a few moments before Abby suddenly held up three fingers. Gibbs was about to ask her what she was doing when the Goth started to silently count down. By the time she reached one and only her forefinger was left pointing to the sky, the machine uttered a high pitching sound and a photo appeared on the screen beneath a blinking sign that read "Match found".

Abby looked completely flabbergasted before she punched the air with a little whoop of joy. "Yes. I knew it! My psychic powers are finally materializing. That's a good sign, right? Gibbs?"

But the agent wasn't listening. He was too distracted by the face on the screen. For a moment he couldn't believe what he was seeing, but then cold fury washed over him. He knew exactly why that man had targeted Tony and the reason was so petty and pathetic that the agent felt the overwhelming urge to take that metal pipe and-

Abby appeared at his shoulder and slowly read the name beneath the photo. "Warren Darby. Never heard of him. You know who that is?"

"Oh yes," Gibbs growled and clenched his fists. "I know exactly who that is."

TBC

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Hmmmmm... who the heck IS that? I hope I can still surprise some of you when I reveal it in the next chapter.

So, a bit of Gibbs/Tony fluff for you. I hope that compensates for the long wait again, at least a little bit.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me but the weak plot... -.-"

**A/N:** Nothing much to say about this chapter, so I'd like to thanks a few people:

First of all, of course my beta **AZGirl** for doing such a great job again! She's the best!

Also, you may have noticed the new icon for this story: That's the work of **AlexDN** (fanfiction . net) aka **alessandravr** on photobucket. It's a bit small here, but believe me that it's really cute and fitting: Three panels: MiniTony/Gibbs, BaltimoreTony/Gibbs and NCISTony/Gibbs. Many thanks, check out AlexDN's work!

And then I can't not mention a certain reviewer who has apparently read my mind and guessed everything right. I won't say their name so I won't spoil them but you'll know who you are! Thousand cookies to you, you totally saw through me.

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_It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons. ~Johann Schiller_

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_Chapter 17 _

Warren Darby was a man on a mission.

He was staying in the shadows, keeping one eye on the door across the backyard and the other on his surroundings. He felt curiously like when he'd been a child and played "Hunter" with his brother. They had sneaked through their neighborhood, pretending to hunt for Bigfoot, which was in reality their neighbor's fat cat. They had caught it, fed it some treats, and then let it go again so they could catch it again. It had been innocent fun.

Today's activity was fun in another way, but not quite so innocent.

Warren pressed deeper into the hedge, gripped the knife in his hand tighter, and suddenly felt very nervous. Not about what he was going to do, but whether or not he would be able to keep his rage contained enough to make his revenge last. His fingers were itching to plunge the shiny knife deep into skin, to watch the blood flow freely. He never would have guessed that it would end like this.

His original plan had been to be as inconspicuous as possible. While the bomb he'd planted hadn't been what you would call inconspicuous, it had given him the chance to keep his distance while it did its job. He had actually parked a few streets over with the windows rolled down and heard the bomb go off, a sound as beautiful as he'd always imagined it.

Warren had been painfully careful with the bomb, making sure that no one would ever be able to trace it back to him. The sense of relief that had washed through him as he'd sat in his car and heard the explosion go off in the distance had been overwhelming. He'd felt like crying, and wasn't even ashamed to let a solitary tear escape. His revenge was finally complete; his unbearable hunger for justice finally sated. It had been the best day of his life, and he'd believed that he could finally get on with it.

He had chosen a bomb because it was quick and painless, and he'd been content with that plan as long as it would get him what he wanted.

DiNozzo's death.

Then everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, and the bomb hadn't worked, hadn't killed the right person. DiNozzo had walked into the office with a – to his prejudiced eyes – carefree saunter, trailing after Gibbs like an obedient puppy. Warren didn't know if he had ever been angrier than at that moment. He remembered the countless hours he'd worked on his bomb – all the hours filled with fear, because each move could have been his last – and the anticipation for the moment when it would finally tear DiNozzo out of this world with a bang. Warren had seen red, and before he'd even decided what he wanted to do, he'd grabbed a pipe from the site where construction workers were expanding the building and clobbered Tony over the head.

He still couldn't believe how stupid he'd been, but his new desire to watch Anthony DiNozzo suffer and scream by his own two hands – up close and personal – had been the only good thing coming out of his lack of judgment earlier today.

He'd ruined everything with that single blow which hadn't even killed the bastard. Despite Gibbs' theories – not that Warren was aware of them – he _had_ aimed to kill the Italian immediately. Only his white hot rage had made his hand unsteady and sweaty and that's what had ultimately saved DiNozzo's life. That and the fact that he'd been so surprised by Burke's appearance that he'd lost his weapon as he'd bolted from the hallway. Because he hadn't worn gloves, his only saving grace for the moment was that he'd instinctively avoided the cameras without even thinking about it.

His impulsiveness had almost ruined everything, but it had also given him a taste of what it must feel like to bash that brown-haired head in himself, to watch the skin tear under his own hands. He realized now that the bomb had been too impersonal, too merciful. It would have given him calm for only a few days before the regret would have started settling in. Now all he wanted was to hear the screams and prolong the pain as long as he could. That man deserved nothing less.

_Warren_ deserved nothing less.

The silent man eased his way through the garden towards the backdoor, still not believing his luck. He'd spent the rest of the day in fear, certain that they would have analyzed the fingerprints by now and that they would have come for him any second. Nevertheless, the chance that DiNozzo would come back to NCIS after the hospital had been too tempting and left him unable to go home or to even flee. And thank God he'd stayed, otherwise he would have never overheard the conversation between Gibbs and Dr. Mallard.

Warren had been in the bullpen when the two men had walked in and for a moment blind panic had seized his heart, making him breathless. He'd only dared to breathe again, when Gibbs had walked right past Warren without even giving him a glance. He then had listened to them talking about the pipe, how the sweat had smeared any fingerprints, and that it would be tomorrow before there were any results from the DNA samples Abby had taken.

Gibbs then told Dr. Mallard that he was staying to work through the night, and that Tony would be resting in his home having refused a protection detail, claiming that his attacker wouldn't even know where Gibbs' home was and that he would be perfectly fine.

Warren had been in heaven. Everyone knew that Gibbs didn't lock his doors and DiNozzo was probably too arrogant to do it this time either.

Sure enough, back in the present and hours later, he was able to ease the backdoor open without a hitch. Warren was practically vibrating with glee as he entered the dark house. He closed the door and was silent for a very long time, standing still as a statue, barely breathing. He counted to 200 in his head before he dared to move, certain that, wherever DiNozzo was, he hadn't heard him enter. The arrogant ass would have probably come to investigate, despite his injuries.

Warren gave his eyes another minute to adjust to the the lack of any light. He'd already noticed that the entire house was shrouded in darkness, which could only mean that Tony was either asleep upstairs or not home yet. Either way, there would be nowhere to escape to for the Italian, and Warren would have the whole night to exact his revenge.

He shivered at the thought and crept through what seemed to be the kitchen. It was minimalistic, so he didn't have much trouble navigating through it and reaching the swinging door at the other end in a matter of seconds. He eased it open and recognized shapes of furniture that told him that he'd found the living room.

Warren inched his waythrough the door, making sure to step lightly. The living room was darker than the kitchen had been, since the curtains had been closed. He knew that the sensible thing would have been to pause yet again and give his eyes time to adjust, but he was strung to the breaking point, his whole body itching to finally carve all his hate into that unblemished skin of that rich, arrogant-

The short burst of light came out of nowhere and Warren couldn't suppress the scream as it pierced his eyes.

He'd been staring into the dark so intently that he had been completely unprepared for the attack. His eyes hurt like hell and were starting to fill with involuntary tears. Afterimages of his surroundings whirled in his vision, rendering him virtually blind. He was dimly aware that the light was already gone again, plunging the room once more into complete darkness, making it even harder to get his bearings. Warren cursed and sliced the knife through the air in front of his body while his other hand furiously rubbed at his eyes. It would be several minutes before he'd be able to somewhat see again. Until then he'd be completely helpless.

"Fuck!"

"Oh sorry," a voice said somewhere to his left. "Probably should have warned you about that. My bad."

Warren growled, and turned towards the voice. He blinked rapidly, and tried to ignore the frisson of fear that entered his mind. There was nothing he could do about his blindness. All he could do now was concentrate on that disembodied voice. A voice he would recognize anywhere. "DiNozzo!"

"Don't sound so surprised. It was you who broke into my home after all."

"You mean Agent Gibbs' home, you little parasite."

There was a pause before Tony drawled: "Fair enough." Warren could almost hear the shrug in DiNozzo's voice and he gritted his teeth in frustration. "But now that you are here, why don't you tell me what the problem is. I was told that I'm a decent listener. Come on; unburden your heart to your old friend Tony."

Warren didn't dare move since he was pretty sure, judging by the sound of it, that he was several feet away from DiNozzo. Since the bastard had apparently sat here in the dark for quite some time and had surely covered his own eyes when he'd blinded his enemy with that light – whatever that had been – Warren was clearly at a disadvantage. It stumped him for a second why DiNozzo wasn't attacking and disarming him while he was still helplessly blind. But then he remembered that DiNozzo was a self-righteous jerk, who clearly thought he was God's gift to mankind. Warren would teach him to underestimate an enemy. He would keep DiNozzo talking and as soon as he was able to see again, he would show him what happened to overconfident prey who tried to play with the hunter.

Warren forced his body to relax and grinned into the darkness, hoping he directed it in somewhat the right direction.

"I wouldn't want to be your friend DiNozzo. They have a tendency to blow up."

Warren could immediately sense the shift of the mood in the room. Hostility seemed to hang in the air, making the darkness even more pressing.

"Thanks to you." Tony bit out, and Warren could tell that he had crossed some unforgivable line. He needed to backpedal a bit. If DiNozzo attacked him now or perhaps even shot him – since Warren could hardly believe that even he would be so stupid as to sit there without some kind of protection – it would all be over.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Warren tried to placate his opponent. He hoped that he sounded sincere, but seriously doubted that had managed it

"Of course you do. Tell me; was it very disappointing to realize that you weren't even able to do that right? I mean, why the house? You could have rigged my car. That would have been the smart move here."

"SHUT UP!" Warren screamed. How dare this man mock him even now! How dare he laugh at him! All pretense of bluffing or playing ignorant went out the window. There was no reason to deny anything anymore.

Warren had never expected to survive this night, but then neither would he allow DiNozzo to survive. He'd known that it would only be a matter of time until Gibbs realized who Warren was and what he'd done, but by then it would have been too late. Perhaps he should wait for Gibbs so that the lead agent could see him still bent over Tony's tortured corpse. With any luck, the agent would have killed Warren in cold blood and ruined his own career as well.

What a fitting punishment for someone who loved his job so much.

"I wanted you to die AND destroy your home. Do you know how difficult it was to place the bomb inside the house? Do you? But no, you had to ruin it again, like you ruin EVERYTHING!"

"Sorry," Tony deadpanned. "My elders always taught me to appreciate the work of others. I guess it just never crossed my mind that they meant bombs that were built to kill me as well. Who knew, right?"

"Still joking!" Warren hissed. The white blotches had left his vision but now he could only see darkness. It was making him claustrophobic and even more agitated than he'd already been. DiNozzo was somewhere in that black mass, making fun of him like the bully he was. "Always joking and laughing, never once wondering whose life you're destroying now."

"How exactly have I destroyed your life, Warren?" Tony asked, and Warren was too enraged to realize that he hadn't given his name yet.

This was finally his chance to unleash all of his anger. He would've preferred to do that while flaying the man's skin off his back, but this would have to do for now.

"Because of you I lost my job. Because of you my wife left me and my children don't want to have anything to do with me. Everything good in my life is gone because of you!

"You lost your job? Your wife and children left you? You know Warren, that is so cliché. Next you're going tell me that you took up drinking because of me."

The rage was building as was the shame, because that's exactly what had happened next. He _had_ turned to alcohol in his despair. DiNozzo rubbing it in with such bored tone of voice and with such disregard for his pain was like a kick in the crotch, and because of that short moment of shock he finally realized that Tony had called him Warren. Twice.

It left him speechless and nervous. Tony couldn't possibly know, could he? Warren had changed so much over the years. His own mother wouldn't have even been able to recognize him.

"How?" he croaked. The first tendrils of apprehension took root, but Warren pushed them mercilessly away. The room didn't seem quite as dark. In only another one or two minutes, he would be able to make Tony out and finally end this. He couldn't lose his cool. Not now, when he was so close.

Tony seemed to know that he hadn't meant the alcohol. "Please Warren. If you didn't want me to figure it out, you shouldn't have spread those rumors about me. They were a bit telling, you know?"

"W-What?"

"Anthony DiNozzo got a little girl killed," Tony whispered as if he was telling someone an awful secret. It sounded eerie and for the first time since this madness had started, Warren found himself taking a step back. "He disregarded the orders of his superior, interrupted the exchange of the ransom for the girl, and she got killed because of that.

"But do you know the worst part?" Tony quickly continued, his voice raspy and menacing. Warren wanted to scream at him to stop, but found his throat closing up. His vision had returned almost completely, and he noticed that something about the shadows around him seemed wrong, but he was too enthralled by DiNozzo's voice to pay it much attention. "He blamed his partner and the poor man was blamed for her death, so he lost his job and family and simply everything. Isn't that _hor-ri-ble_?"

Warren was swaying now. Had he told the story like that in the bullpen? He didn't know anymore, because he had told so many negative stories about the man in front of him.

"It's true!" He choked out now, because in his delusional world it was the truth. Tony had tricked him all those years ago. If the brat hadn't tricked him, then he'd still have his job.

"Not really, no," Tony said. There was some rustling, and it seemed to come from all around Warren, but surely that was just his nerves playing tricks on him. The shadows weren't really moving in on him like ghosts, like demons-

No. No. N_ononononono._ This couldn't be happening.

"I'm pretty sure that we were never partners. And also," Another noise came from behind Warren. He had the sense that the shapeless shadows were closing in, suffocating him, grabbing for him, before the darkness was replaced by bright and constant burning light. Warren shielded his eyes with his arm and squinted into the now brightly lit room, almost not hearing what DiNozzo said next. "I'm not sure Mia would appreciate you telling everyone that she's dead."

Warren felt the barrel of a gun on the back of his head long before he was able to see again. The sight that met him was something he could have lived without.

He had expected the room to be empty except for Tony and him, but nothing could be further from the truth; there were at least a dozen NCIS agents surrounding him and every single one of them pointing a gun at his head. They were everywhere and with a moment of clarity he realized that they had been in here with them since he'd been blinded, soundlessly taking positions. Night-vision goggles were hanging from their necks, still swinging slightly from when they'd ripped them off their faces seconds before the lights had gone on. The knowledge that there had been a dozen guns pointed at him in the darkness, while he'd been completely clueless and helpless, made Warren's knees go weak. The grim expressions on the agents' faces only reinforced his building sense of feeling trapped.

His gaze then gaze fell on the armchair only a few feet in front of him and partially hidden behind two bulky agents. Anthony DiNozzo was sitting ramrod straight in it, the hands in his lap clutching a big flashlight. Warren's eyes briefly rested on it, and in a daze he thought, '_Ah, that's what he blinded me with'_, before he saw that the Italian was smiling at him. The smile was without humor and his eyes were like ice, boring into him with so much disgust that Warren really didn't know what held the man back from just getting up and killing him right where he stood.

Maybe it was pure self-restraint. Maybe it was a sense of justice that had grown foreign to Warren himself.

Or maybe it was the big hand that rested on Tony's shoulder, a hand belonging to the man who had taken up a position right behind the armchair.

Gibbs hadn't even bothered to draw his gun. He simply hovered behind DiNozzo, his gaze fixed on the intruder. He must have been there like that the whole time. Throughout the whole conversation, he'd been having Tony's back and listening to everything that was said, lending silent support and strength, his eyes never leaving the threat to his agent.

Warren simply stared at the two of them – so much faith and trust and understanding mirrored in that simple stance, something that Warren could have had too, if only he'd never met Anthony DiNozzo.

Gibbs regarded the man with cold indifference.

"Warren Darby, AKA Warren Nickols. Consider yourself under arrest."

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Tony watched the agents escort a fuming and cursing Nickols out of the house through hooded eyes.

He still couldn't quite believe that the agent that had worked Mia's case with Gibbs all those years ago had tried to kill him. It was surreal. He had made a lot of enemies over the years, some intended and others not so much. There were criminals who he'd arrested, and the family members of said criminals. Colleagues who just couldn't get used to his investigation methods or simply his personality. Hell, there had even been the occasional female acquaintance who'd - more or less seriously - threatened to kill him when they'd realized, that he'd been dead serious when he'd told them that he didn't want anything permanent. It really wasn't his fault that he apparently emitted some kind of kicked puppy hormone that made women want to fix him, only to realize that he didn't want to be fixed. Those break-ups tended to be... messy.

The fact that it was someone that he'd pissed off at the tender age of twelve, and when he hadn't even meant to do it – well, who would have thought that?

Then again, maybe it wasn't _that_ surprising. Tony remembered too well how he'd convinced the young agent to bring him along and how he'd gotten himself kidnapped in the process - completely on purpose. At the time he had never thought about what Gibbs would do to Nickols. When everything had been over and done with, he hadn't wondered where the probie was or if Nickols would get in trouble because of Tony's actions.

Tony hadn't liked the guy very much, but he had never wanted Warren to lose his job or for him to lose his family. Tony didn't really understand why the man had taken the name of his wife and bluffed his way into NCIS as the buildings' maintenance worker. That had certainly taken a lot of criminal energy and manipulation on his part. Of course he had many contacts left from his time as an agent, but Tony felt almost sorry for the guys in administration who'd been too lenient, neglecting to check up on his history and not bothering to crosscheck Warren's fingerprints with those of former agents in the database. Morrow had promised – _threatened_ – to find the people responsible and Tony had never seen the man so angry.

Maybe Warren had loved his life as an agent so much, that he hadn't been able to let it go completely, even if he had been reduced to a mere bystander with a broom in the process. The thought caused an unpleasant sensation inside Tony's gut and he found that he'd rather not dwell on that train of thought.

When his twelve-year-old self had pulled that stunt, he really hadn't wanted the man to hate him or for that hate to fester and grow until it erupted in an explosion of violence. It must have been a shock for Warren to see DiNozzo – the person he'd blamed for his messed up life – take his old place by Gibbs' side fifteen years later.

Tony internally winced when he tried to imagine how that must have felt to the ex-agent

"Stop it," A gruff voice said from behind him. Tony had forgotten that Gibbs was still there and he jumped a little in his seat before he recovered his poise. The hand on his shoulder retracted and the man it belonged to moved in front of him and sat down on the coffee table.

Gibbs raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him when Tony tried to act nonchalant. "What do you mean?"

"You're pitying him and starting to blame yourself. Stop it."

Tony's eyes hardened and flicked to the right. His lips thinned and Tony thought that even his voice sounded thin as well. "Don't get me wrong. I don't feel any sympathy for that man. He killed my best friend. I'll never forget or forgive that."

Gibbs nodded. "And you shouldn't. So why the guilty face?"

"Just remembered what a brat I was back then." Tony shrugged when he saw Gibbs' eyes narrow. "Hey, I don't pity him, but there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that I wasn't without any faults. If I had been thinking before acting, it would have saved a lot of people lots of trouble – Nickols included."

"You're right," Gibbs said, but at Tony's flinch added. "You were a brat."

"Hey!"

"But you didn't force Nickols to take you with him. That was a decision he made on his own. And you didn't get him fired. I only threw him off my team earlier than it would've happened anyway. He was still an agent when we got back." He reached over and lightly tapped Tony's forehead. "Neither of us are the reason why he wasn't able to fit in anywhere, that he screwed up even more often, or was worse than ever before. It sure as hell wasn't either of our faults that he was ultimately suspended. It was his decision that he turned his anger against his own family until they eventually left him." He leaned back and regarded his agent with a fond expression. "We all make our own choices and mistakes. There's no one to blame but ourselves when they blow up in our faces."

Tony thought about his father, the man who had cut off his only heir and who had married everything that crossed his path in the hope that one of the young ladies would bear him another son, never realizing that it wasn't the women's fault none of them ever got pregnant.

His father's choices certainly hadn't worked out for him and for the first time, Tony tentatively started to believe that this situation maybe wasn't his fault either.

"Yeah," Tony drawled, and relaxed back into his seat. "You know, that's probably the most I've ever heard you say since I met you. Are you sure you're alright?"

The hand that very, very softly connected with the back of his still smarting head wasn't really a surprise but comforting in its predictability.

The ensuing silence allowed Tony to take a closer look at his surroundings. All the furniture in the living room had been moved to a new spot in order to accommodate the many hidden agents. Nickols hadn't known it, but he'd been under tight surveillance for the last few hours. NCIS had been aware of every step he'd taken, since they'd identified his fingerprints on the weapon. They could have taken him in immediately, but then they would only have been able to charge him with the attack at NCIS since he'd left no evidence at all on the bomb that had killed Jimmy. It had seemed easier to set him up,but only under Gibbs' close monitoring and Tony's oath that he would follow Gibbs' orders to the letter by not doing anything stupid.

They had gotten their confession and Nickols would rot in jail, but Gibbs' living room still looked like a battlefield and somehow that was all Tony could think about. Maybe he was in shock.

But, then again, maybe he was just stupid like that.

"Boss, look at that chaos. Sorry for turning your home upside down." Tony swallowed when he thought back to how he had called this place _his_ home when he'd spoken with Nickols. He had been incredibly thankful for the darkness so that neither Gibbs nor Nickols had been able to see the blush staining his cheeks. He had only hoped that Gibbs would forget about his little lapse and not call him on it later. "I better get that straightened out." He moved to stand up, but Gibbs' hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He noticed that the older agent was looking at him with a weird look in his eyes. It was a look that clearly said_ 'You're an idiot and sometimes I think I'm the even bigger idiot because I still love you'_. It was so vastly different from his father's simple _'You're an idiot'_ look, that for a second it left Tony blinking in numb surprise. All of a sudden, it was very difficult to keep eye contact with the man that was quickly becoming something more than a simple colleague or even mentor.

Surprisingly, Tony actually wanted to believe that Gibbs might actually love him despite his many faults.

Because the emotion in that look couldn't be mistaken for anything else, Tony just wasn't sure what kind of love this was supposed to be. He was only familiar with the kind between two lovers, but somehow he was sure that that wasn't what Gibbs felt for him (not to mention that even the thought of Gibbs and him together like that made his skin crawl)*. So, what was he supposed to think about that look? Was he already imagining things again, seeing a fondness and emotion that wasn't there? If that was the case, then he would have to leave again, as hard as that would be. He couldn't afford to get attached to someone who didn't want the burden.

As always it was Gibbs himself who answered all his questions and who calmed all his fears by smothering his insecurities with one breathtakingly simple sentence. "It's your home too son."

Tony blinked back the wet sheen in his eyes and stared at the ground. For the first time in a long time he didn't know what to say. It had been so long since someone had called him son without a scathing remark following it, and so long since someone had offered him a home without wanting something in return. A part of him wanted to pack his things and run because he wasn't sure that he would ever be able to deal with these feelings of closeness and belonging.

It was too much, too unfamiliar, but another part of him insisted that he stop being an idiot and just risk it. Risk getting hurt, risk getting left behind. This part urged him to accept that there might be someone who truly cared for him, who maybe even already loved him in their own, gruff way.

These two parts of himself battled for dominance right up to the point when Gibbs took Tony's chin and forced his head up to meet his sincere blue eyes.

"You know," Tony croaked and forced himself to not look away. He wanted to see the moment Gibbs changed his mind, so he would be able to backtrack if necessary, no matter how much it would hurt. "It might take a while to find an apartment. Maybe I could use that room upstairs a little longer?"

Only when he saw Gibbs' answering half-smile and heard the immediate, "Always,", did the tight ball of lead that had dropped into his stomach disappear. Only then did he allow himself to breathe a little easier and be thankful that he'd dared to take that risk.

Because, now that he really thought about it, it had been no risk at all.

TBC

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... and so the circle is complete. Please be honest, did any of you not see that coming? Because I start to think it was kinda obvious... oh well.

Only an epilogue to go. YAY

Yeah, so not sure if this actually works. Nickols taking the name of his ex-wife and smuggling his way into NCIS despite being a former agent and all. All I can say is: It's fanfiction. It's all about the small liberties we take with the hard facts and cold realities. At least for me. :)

Just to make things clear: Some may know from my other stories that I'm a dedicated "Slash-Girl" as well. Normally I'm slashing everything with everyone and I admit to have tried a few Gibbs/Tony stories as well. They were mostly well written and everything, but I always found myself not quite warming up to this pairing. They are just too much father and son in my opinion and for me that will always get in the way of a good slash story. Additionally, as I once pointed out, Tony met Gibbs when he was a kid and regards him as a father figure. So my Tony now crushing on Gibbs, would be like Tony crushing on his father... need I say more?

All I'm trying to say is, that I meant no disrespect to all the Gibbs/Tony shippers out there who've stumbled over my story. Each their own. :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I never made and never will make any money with this. This is purely for your and (mostly) my amusement.

**A/N:** Okay, so this is the (short) epilogue. I have mixed feelings about this. I'm generally bad at first and last chapters. The other two stories didn't really have last chapters, more like interludes, leading into the next story with a cliffhanger. This one doesn't have a cliffhanger because I wanted it to be a clear ending...

A **big thank you** goes, as always to my **beta AZGirl**. Send her all your love and go read her stories! Seriously... **GO!**

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Oh wait, read this chapter first and **THEN** go.

**For more, see A/N at the end of this chapter.**

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Epilogue

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**3 Months later**

Anthony DiNozzo was convinced that he was going to die.

His whole body ached, and he felt as if he couldn't take another step without falling over. He blearily eyed the floor and decided that that didn't sound so bad actually. A little nap would be just the thing right now, the carpet didn't look all that uncomfortable. Just a few seconds to rest his smarting body and stretch his shaking limbs - that should be doable, right?

And that's how Gibbs found him, five minutes later, as he carried the last moving box into the apartment.

"Get up," the team leader said, nudging the still body on the floor lightly with his toe before he put the box down. "You barely did anything."

Tony merely lifted his head off the ground to shoot his boss a disbelieving stare. "Barely did anything? I feel like I carried your boat in here and not just my stuff."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and inspected the dozen or so moving boxes in the corner with a skeptical eye. "You trying to tell me something DiNozzo?"

The Italian's upper body shot up, a denial on his lips, until he saw the small grin on Gibbs' face. "Oh har har. When did you discover your sense of humor?"

"About the same time you discovered how to work the washing machine," the older man retorted.

"Add too much detergent _one time_ and they never let you live it down." Tony groaned theatrically, only a tiny bit sorry for the chaos he'd created that day.

Before Gibbs could remind his agent that it had happened _twice _in_ one week,_ Abby bounced into the apartment with her house warming gift clutched tightly to her chest; a house plant with black petals. Tony appreciated the sentiment, but he was still a bit wary about it since it felt a little too 'Hitchcock', even for him.

"Wow," Abby gushed. "Your new place is amazing. I'll miss the movie nights at Gibbs' place though."

Tony grinned, but it was tinged with sadness; he would miss those nights curled up on the couch with Abby too. Getting Gibbs to watch a movie that the older man would never watch in a thousand lifetimes had been just as much a challenge as convincing the Marine to allow him to set up his TV in the living room. Tony had almost despaired before his boss had finally agreed. It had been more than worth it though, to see the little furrow between the agent's eyes grow deeper and deeper the longer a movie played. Tony could never tell whether it was because Gibbs was actually getting into the story, or whether he found it ridiculous and wondered why someone would watch stuff like this.

The three months had been an up-and-down kind of affair; Tony enjoyed his time with Gibbs greatly. Movie night, which included Abby and Ducky a lot too, was just one example of the many incredible and comfortable times they had spent together. Tony looked back on it with a wistful sadness which was only soothed because Gibbs had assured him that the little guest room would from now on always be his room and that he would always have a place there.

And Tony intended to take advantage of that. Just a few months ago he would never have even considered taking Gibbs up on his offer, but Tony had decided to just close his eyes and chance that step out into the unknown. Gibbs had asked him to trust him, and Tony was willing to risk it. So if, from time to time, he claimed he'd had too much to drink to drive home after a movie night at Gibbs' house; well, then that was just his way of reassuring himself that the older man wouldn't push him away.

But, while Tony would have loved to stay with Gibbs for a while longer, there were also the days when the Italian felt an almost physical need to put some distance between himself and his boss. Those occurred mostly on mornings when the night beforehand had been spent talking about all the issues he didn't want to discuss. Gibbs had been relentless in his mission to get Tony to at least tell him a bit more about his time with his father. Tony secretly thought that the man was keeping a book somewhere where he noted all the cruelties DiNozzo Sr. had inflicted on his son in case he ever met the millionaire again. Tony shuddered just at the thought of a meeting like that. He imagined that it would be a lot like Godzilla meeting Mothra; two superhuman fighting machines leaving a lot of carnage in their wake.

Then there were the days when they got home from a difficult case and practically had to tip-toe around each other. In moments like those, they both needed their space and Tony would usually go on a run while Gibbs worked on his boat. It didn't happen often, but it was often enough to bring home to the young man that, as much as he liked living in that house, it wasn't a permanent solution.

So, he had started looking for his own place and had quickly grown frustrated with the lack of acceptable living accommodations available. Or rather, the lack of acceptable living accommodations according to Gibbs' standards.

Tony still didn't know how he did it, but Gibbs had somehow managed to be at every viewing, even those the Italian _hadn't_ told him about. At first he hadn't known whether to be alarmed or pleased that Gibbs took so much interest in his well-being.

He had soon settled on feeling irritated when it became apparent that no place was good enough in Gibbs' eyes. Sure, some had been a bit... shabby or in a neighborhood that even the local LEOs tried to avoid having to patrol, but Tony wasn't willing to spend all of his money on a high-end real estate so what could you do?

It had been mostly okay for Gibbs to tag along until the man had threatened to arrest his potential future landlord for financial fraud because _'trying to rent out such a shithole for that price is criminal'._

After that Tony had forbidden – yes, _forbidden!_- his boss to accompany him again. Gibbs had grudgingly agreed to let him deal with it on his own, and Tony had barely been able to contain his glee when he'd not three days later found an ad in the paper for this little gem. Lots of room in a good neighorhood close to work, and the rent was a joke. Tony had almost felt bad for accepting the conditions, convinced that he was ripping his landlord off, but Mr. Jones had assured him that he didn't really need the income. His daughter had even lived there for free until she'd moved in with her finance so it really wasn't a problem.

_'I'm happy I can help such a nice, young lad.' _he'd said, and Tony had happily signed the contract, convinced that Gibbs would find no fault with his new living conditions.

And he hadn't, which was why they were now moving his stuff in.

"I know, right?" Tony said, still sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I can't believe my luck."

Abby put the pot of doom down on a table, and regarded her favorite Mini-agent with a bemused expression. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Tony shrugged. "I was tired. He who works hard gets to rest." He decidedly ignored Gibbs' snort, and only shot the man a dirty look when the agent turned his back on him as he carried another box into the kitchen.

"But why didn't you use the couch?" Abby asked and pointed at said furniture.

Tony blinked a few times, wondering that himself, before he patted the spot besides him. "It all looks bigger from down here. Wanna try too?"

The Goth didn't even think twice before she flopped down, swinging her legs in the air and putting her head in his lap. "You're right!" she exclaimed brightly and eagerly looked around. "It does."

"I see you are already comfortable," A voice said from the open doorway. They both looked over to see Mr. Jones leaning against the door frame, watching them with a fond smile. Abby waved at him and Tony copied the motion, thinking 'why not'. It wasn't like the older man wouldn't get to meet all his crazy friends at some point. It was probably better he got used to them sooner rather than later.

"Hello, Mr. Jones," Tony greeted. "Very comfortable, this place is great. This is Abby and this," he continued pointing to Gibbs, who had emerged from the kitchen, "is my boss, Gibbs."

The two older men nodded at each other before Gibbs turned back to Tony. "Why don't you two go and get us something from the Thai place I've seen downstairs."

"Now?" Tony asked, sending Mr. Jones an uncomfortable look. He had manners and he didn't want to leave now that his new landlord had come to visit him. Abby saw the problem immediately from her spot in Tony's lap and jumped back to her feet.

"Well, I'm starving. Mr. Jones, you'll eat with us, won't you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"Nonsense," The Goth interrupted and pulled a groaning Tony to his feet. "It'll be like a house warming party, and you'll be able to experience first-hand just how loud Tony's parties can get so you'll know what to expect."

"ABBY!" a flustered Italian shouted as he was pulled out of the door.

"We'll be back soon."

"How can you say something like that? Do you want him to kick me out before I've even moved in?"

"Aw shucks, I'm sure he knew I was joking. And you can still move in with me. You know that I have a spare coffin waiting, just for you."

"Ah, well-" Tony trailed off, obviously searching for a way to let his friend down gently.

Gibbs and Jones listened to the bickering until the two youngsters had disappeared down the hall. Blessed silence fell over the two of them until Jones gave a throaty chuckle.

"You got your hands full there, don't you Jethro?"

Gibbs grinned, and slapped his old friend on the back. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Jones let his eyes wander through the room, taking in the movie collection and the TV system until landing on the black plant. He blinked at it a few times before he decided that he'd just have to get used to his quirky new tenant.

Speaking of...

"Remind me again, why is it that he can't know that we two know each other? And why did I have to run an advertisement in the paper just to reject all those interested until your boy called? Wouldn't it have been easier for you to just tell him about my place?"

Gibbs shrugged. "You would think so, but nothing is ever easy with DiNozzo."

He could still clearly remember how angry the young man had been with him when yet another viewing gone bad and he'd made Gibbs promise to leave the apartment hunting to Tony. He'd kept his promise, up to a point. Surely, asking an old friend who still owed you a favor to run an advertisement and then placing the paper with said advertisement face up on the kitchen table so that a certain agent would find it while drinking his coffee, wasn't considered meddling, was it? The fact that it was close enough to work and to Gibbs' place in case of emergencies was just a bonus, of course.

"Won't he be mad when he finds out?" Jones inquired.

Gibbs knew his agent. Without a doubt, Tony would not be too thrilled with Gibbs if he ever found out that he'd been manipulated like that; that his boss had more or less inserted his own spy in order to always have an eye on the young man.

In the past, when Gibbs had seen the dump his agent had called his home back in Baltimore, the former Marine had told himself that he would never let his child live like that, no matter how stubborn they may be.

And Gibbs believed in taking his own words to heart.

"You know how it is," he said with a soft smile. "You do what you have to for family'."

END

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**BIG A/N!**

Maybe OOC on Gibbs' part, but I get a kick out of imagining him pulling the strings and leading an oblivious Tony to an apartment where he can always have an eye on him.

So, this is it. I may come back to this universe for a one-shot or something (any ideas? Gimme, Gimme) but for now I'd like to concentrate on other stuff. I have another NCIS family-fic in the works, which concentrates on Gibbs/Jimmy/Tony. Yeah, I love Jimmy and I decided to do a fic where he is the center. Hope some of you will come back to read that as well. It will take a while until I start uploading it, but I hope you won't forget me until it's time.

Also, I'm itching to write Slash again after so much family stories. We'll see, we'll see... I actually really, really want to write an Avengers/NCIS crossover. Anybody interested in reading that?

To be honest, the next story I'll update will probably be an Avengers story. MOST probably Slash or at least Epic Bromance between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers or Bruce Banner. If that's your thing, look out for that. I'd love to see some of you again. :)

**So, this is it. It was a wild and crazy ride and I want to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted or favorited my stories**. Your words and support always encouraged me very much and I hope I could bring you some joy with my stories and let you forget a few of the real life worries. This trilogy has taught me so much and it was a great learning experience writing it. **Thank you for sticking with me and giving this girl a chance to share some of her madness with you! You are all the best. Hopefully see you soon.**

Sincerely,

InsaneMelon


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